


The Thirteenth

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Tales of the Mountie Slayer, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-26
Updated: 2000-03-26
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: A seer. Two Slayers. A Sabbat. Lilith's ultimate revenge. A dead thing book.This story is a sequel toThe XXX Files.





	The Thirteenth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "The Thirteenth" 
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes 
    Rating: R 
    Series: Mountie Slayer: Gehenna 
    Disclaimers: DS belongs to Alliance. Tom Grissom (or various incarnations
    thereof) belong to EA Karras.  Calhoun belongs to Magnes. 
    
    ---- 
    
    "Ouch!" The Chaos demon looked up as the door to his apartment burst
    open with a well-place kicked. He stared at the man who'd done the kicking
    with an open mouth. The heavily-armed invader was stretching his foot,
    achingly. 
    
    "What is it with you demons and lead doors? Do you just wake up one morning
    and think, 'hey, I'd like to break every bone in some poor Slayer's body?'"
    the man demanded, looking disgusted. He held in both hands a Twinki Rifle.
    
    "Look....can't we talk about this?" the chaos demon snarled. "Work a
    deal?" 
    
    A half-sarcastic smile. "Hmm. Probably not." He fired one Twinki round.
    
    No one found the body. 
    
    *** 
    
    Anyone who entered the 13th at 12:01 pm on that Friday would have been
    blown over by the screams. Detectives, officers, even the psychic offenders,
    all doubled over in agonizing pain. Screaming, shrieking with the force
    of the mass flashes. 
    
    A man in his late fifties collapsed on the sidewalk outside, dead of
    a heart attack from the strain of it. As the flash spread through those
    in the building, it slowly began to creep out and effect those who had
    ever worked there, or been there. Teachers who had once been cops. Civilian
    aids. Janitors. Everyone. 
    
    Except for one. Except for Ray Kowalski. 
    
    Across town a teacher doubled over in agony, cutting into a frog. He
    slipped. 
    
    On the phone with a caller, a psychic phone sex operator moaned. 
    
    In the basement, several empathic mice shrieked in pain. 
    
    But nothing happened to Ray. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Kowalski! Vecchio! Huey, Dewey!" Welsh stood in the doorway of his office,
    phone in hand. "Get down to the 13th ten minutes ago. We've got a situation."
    
    Ray looked up. The 13th. Great. He shivered. "What kind of situation?"
    he asked, pulling on his coat. 
    
    "Psychic attack. Cops collapsing all over the place." 
    
    Ray grabbed his glasses from the desk. "Everybody?" 
    
    "Everybody but you." 
    
    He shivered again. No. That's not right. That can't be right. "Great."
    
    *** 
    
    Vecchio stared at the mass of downed psychics in the buildings, and shivered.
    Who had done this? Demons? Lilith? It certainly had her stink all over
    it. 
    
    He found himself wondering why Kowalski hadn't been affected, unaware
    that Ray Kowalski, slowly picking his way through the mess that had been
    his old precinct, was wondering the same thing. 
    
    The squad room stank of burnt paper and hair.  He was jostled by the
    paramedics as he worked his way towards a pile of melted slag that had
    once been his desk.  There was a body there, wrapped on a sheet as only
    a coroner wraps a body.  Ray grimaced, looking around. 
    
    /'Bout time you got here, Kowalski./ 
    
    He turned at the voice.  "Carrie...what happened?" 
    
    The ghost of his old friend shrugged, seemingly unconcerned with being
    dead.  /Something hit us.  We were on to the mother of all demons right
    here in the city - / 
    
    Ray felt sick, knowing he was standing over the body of her former partner,
    the man she had become linked to on this plain.  He swallowed.  "Was
    it...Lilith?" 
    
    /How did you know?/ 
    
    "Got a week?" 
    
    She looked at her watch.  /Actually, no.  I have to scram./  Her gaze
    went down to the cloth-wrapped body at their feet.  /Ivan was a pain
    and a complete bore, but he sure was devoted. He didn't deserve this.
    I'm going to see if I can find him.  He'll need help adjusting to being
    dead.  You take care of yourself..../ 
    
    "Be good, Carrie," he whispered. 
    
    She strode away.  Ray was still, looking at the wrapped corpse.  Nausea
    hit him and he turned away, smack into- 
    
    Fraser. 
    
    The Mountie was breathless.  "I heard on the news.  Leftenant Welsh said
    I'd find you here."  Without being told he knew what was wrong and he
    steered the American away from the wrapped body and the row of body bags
    he hadn't seen yet. 
    
    "It was Lilith.  She did this." 
    
    "Benny!  You okay, Stan?" 
    
    Ray nodded unconvincingly.  Vecchio continued.  "The psychic said it
    centered over there.  That desk." 
    
    Ray looked to where Vecchio pointed.  "That was my desk." 
    
    "Reports are coming in all over the city.  Seems like just about anyone
    with psychic abilities that ever even /visited/ here was hit." Huey shook
    his head in disbelief. 
    
    Ray looked down.  Fraser did not like the set of his mouth, since he
    could not see Ray's eyes.  Guilt.  Survivor's guilt. 
    
    "Except me," whispered Ray. 
    
    "That's hardly your fault, Ray." 
    
    He opened his mouth to protest when Dewey came up. "You've gotta see
    this." He led them into the bathroom. Ray didn't make it past the door,
    but whirled away, gagging.  Scrawled all over the walls, the mirrors,
    the body was a phone number. The same number, over and over again. 
    
    Vecchio handed Fraser his cellphone, dialing quickly, then going to stand
    by Ray. 
    
    Fraser nearly jumped when he heard the voice on the other line. "Psychic
    Network, we know what you need," a low, almost depressed sounding voice
    whispered. 
    
    "Ah. Yes. I'm glad. I was wondering..." 
    
    "Dog pee." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "You want dog pee?" The voice didn't sound surprised. Could it be this
    wasn't an unusual request? 
    
    Fraser paused, glancing around. Was this some kind of joke? "I don't
    see how that would hel..." 
    
    "You can do that with a Stetson?" 
    
    Fraser turned beet red as Ray watched. He grabbed the phone. "Who is
    this??" 
    
    "Stan?" The voice sounded shocked. "Stan, is that you?" 
    
    He gaped, not sure what to say. "Uhhh....um..." He felt Vecchio grab
    the phone. "Who the hell is this?" Vecchio barked, not in the mood for
    games. 
    
    "Green????" 
    
    *** 
    
    His head ached and pounded with the effort to stay awake. A night of
    offing demons and a day of mind fucking with the non psychics. /What
    a great life I lead/, he thought sarcastically. 
    
    He held the phone to his ear while he went through another caller. The
    only real psychic on the hotline, he got all the weird calls. And the
    last one was definitely weird, culminating in the police en route. Joy
    and rapture. 
    
    He had no idea what he'd seen, or what he'd felt. It wasn't good. Not
    good at all. But at least he'd gotten the number through. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser shifted, uncomfortably in the backseat of the Riv. "You know him?"
    
    "Him?" 
    
    "The man on the phone." 
    
    "Uh...yeah.  He...he was a cop once." 
    
    "Did you work with him?" Fraser asked a little nervously. 
    
    Ray nodded.  "One case.  Not directly.  He was on loan from...where the
    hell was that?  I don' remember."  He shook his head, trying to clear
    his thoughts.  He was trembling at what had happened in the 13th.  "He
    was in Chicago tryin' to help with a case 'cross state lines.  It was...turned
    ugly.  I don't think he stayed a cop long after that." 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    Ray looked at him miserably.  "Y-yeah, Frase?" 
    
    The Mountie reached over and pulled him in close, distressed at the American's
    inevitable reaction to all this.  "It's not your fault," he whispered.
    
    Ray closed his eyes.  "We don' know that, Ben." 
    
    "You didn't hurt those people." 
    
    "They were hurt 'causa me." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "That flash.  That big one I had last month.  Little bits of it are comin'
    clear.  I saw what happened." 
    
    Fraser smoothed his hair.  He would have to dye it again soon, the Mountie
    noted.  "Tell me, Ray." 
    
    "Demons.  Black.  So black you can't see 'em.  They were tryin' ta stop
    the 13th from finding out about Lilith." 
    
    "They weren't successful." 
    
    "Helluva price." 
    
    Fraser nodded. "Tell me what you remember about him." He needed to know.
    
    Ray, despite his blossoming headache and emotional state, read between
    the lines and that nervous smoothing of an eyebrow that gave the Mountie
    away every time.  Fraser felt threatened by this unknown from Ray's past.
    
    He almost smiled, reaching over to cover the Mountie's hand with his
    own.  Fraser would figure it out.  Ray had been married to Stella at
    the time and Fraser knew that he was nothing if not loyal to his partner.
    
    "We need to know who we're dealing with." 
    
    Ray took a breath. "He was chasing an Enthos demon.  Followed it to Chicago.
    It'd killed some big wig alderman." He sighed, clasping Fraser's hand.
    "They partnered him with Carrie Westfall.  Carrie and I worked together
    sometimes when her regular partner, Ivan, was out on recovery leave.
    He was out when this went down." 
    
    "You found the demon?" 
    
    "Chased it almost to the border." Ray lowered his eyes. "Then it got
    Carrie. Beheaded her.  Tom...freaked out. Had a breakdown. They wouldn't
    take him back in Baltimore." That's right. That's where he was from.
    "He wouldn't quit. They fired him. He couldn't stay in Baltimore, he
    wouldn't tell anyone why. We all thought he went down south." 
    
    Fraser looked down. "He sounded horrible, Ray. Like he was dying inside."
    
    *** 
    
    "Tom." Ray stared at the rather dishevelled and gangly looking ex cop.
    "What're you doin' working here? Like this?" 
    
    "It's not exactly the highlight of my life." Tom Grissom folded his arms.
    "What'd you wanna know?" 
    
    Ray let out a small derisive laugh, shoving his hands into his coat pockets
    and looking heavenwards.  "Oh, I dunno.  Like why are you and I the only
    two people that ever stepped foot in the 13th that aren't either dead
    or insane right now?" 
    
    A frown creased his brow.  "What?" 
    
    "You didn't hear?" 
    
    "I've been cooped up in here all day.  What are you talking about, Stan?"
    His eyes wandered to where Fraser and Vecchio waited in the other room.
    A Mounted Slayer?  In Chicago.  He knew instantly that the Mountie belonged
    with Stan.  He hadn't guessed Kowalski was in to that when they'd first
    met.  The Kowalski he'd known was unhappily married, but straight.  Looking
    at that build and that innocent face, though, only a fool would pass
    up a prize like that.  There was an inherent goodness about the Slayer,
    too, devotion and strength and a keen intelligence.  And he was head
    over heels for Kowalski. 
    
    The other man was slimmer, his style impeccable, and his emotions more
    varied.  Like the Mountie, he was protective of Kowalski but in a different
    way.  While the Mountie was possessive as a lover should be, the other
    man was more defensive, as if waiting to pounce on anyone that might
    say the wrong thing to Stan.  Clearly this was a new feeling in him.
    It was all sharp edges and steel. 
    
    Still...there was an inner calm to this man.  Like the eye of a hurricane.
    A long-deserved peace.  Something good had happened to him recently and
    Stan had been part of it, hence the protective stance. 
    
    "There was a psychic attack on the 13th," Kowalski was saying, bringing
    Tom back to the here-and-now.  "Every psychic ever associated with the
    place -  cops, janitors, perps, visitors - got hit this afternoon.  Everyone
    but you and me." 
    
    He fell back into the chair, his mouth open in shock.  The phone rang
    and they both jumped. 
    
    "Millicent, take it, will you?" Tom asked. 
    
    "You owe me," she called. 
    
    "Dead?" he whispered. 
    
    Ray shrugged.  "Some of them.  Some are...cat...cata...in a coma." 
    
    "Oh, my god." 
    
    "Listen, can we go talk somewhere?  Let's get some coffee or something."
    
    "Okay," he replied numbly.  "Millicent, I'm taking lunch.  I'll be back."
    
    *** 
    
    Ten minutes later, they sat in a diner.  Introductions had been made
    all around and coffee was served.  Fraser kept trying to get Kowalski
    to eat, something about doctor's orders and not being able to get back
    to regular duty until he gained at least ten pounds.  Taking a look at
    his old acquaintance, Tom had to agree.  Kowalski was a mess. 
    
    There was such a riot of emotion running through the detective that Tom
    couldn't begin to sort through it all.  Something....no, somethings awful
    and traumatic had happened to him and not just once, but over and over.
    Kowalski had always been hyper.  Sugar and caffeine and a natural inability
    to keep still had sustained him the time that Tom knew him.  This was
    different.  It was as if he was being consumed from the inside now. 
    A slow, smoldering burn that they all knew about but did not mention.
    It wasn't cancer or any type of disease.  It was...what was it? 
    
    The Slayer was giving him an odd look. He sat back in his seat. "It happened
    around noon?" He asked, folding his fingers together over and over. He
    looked unnerved. He felt unnerved. 
    
    "Yeah. Uh...12:01." 
    
    "I felt something around then. Nothing too coherent. Kinda like someone
    was muffling it. I was on the line with someone, hooked in. Y'know, maybe
    that's why I wasn't affected." Fingers moved faster.  He picked up a
    toothpick, twisting it, breaking it apart into tiny little stakes. "The
    guy, though. He Probably got a real blast of it..." 
    
    "Do you know who he was?" Fraser asked. 
    
    "Yeah. We have to take down the name, the credit cards. But I remember
    him, cause he /asked/ for me specifically." Tom shifted in his seat,
    uncomfortably. 
    
    Ray let Fraser ask the questions. Something about the former cop was
    bothering him. Something big. He kept his eyes on him, watching his body
    language. Times like these he wished he were a mind reader. 
    
    "That's not common?" 
    
    "No. Not usually. If they ask, they usually ask for Millicent." He tugged
    the sleeve of his shirt down, trying to keep it past the wrist. "Um....but
    the guy...yeah. Uh...Cal...Calhoun something...." 
    
    Kowalski sucked in his breath at the name.  It didn't seem possible,
    but he actually grew paler.  Fraser and Vecchio exchanged looks that
    could only be called nervous. 
    
    "...weird guy. We get a lot of weird shit there. But he um...blood, screaming.
    Pain. Guy was into some scary stuff. I couldn't get a real grip on him."
    
    "Calhoun." Vecchio looked at Ray. "Lilith." 
    
    Fraser turned to Ray. "Bathroom." 
    
    *** 
    
    "What's wrong?" 
    
    "He's nervous. I don't think he's telling us everything." Fraser paused
    thoughtful. "Why would Calhoun call him?" 
    
    "I dunno..." Ray remembered the nervousness. "Did you see the way he
    kept tugging at his shirt?" 
    
    "Suicide attempt?" 
    
    "You think?" 
    
    "It's possible. And maybe something else.  He's not entirely happy."
    
    "Who the hell would be in his shoes?  I mean, I've been down but never
    /that/ far out." 
    
    Fraser studied the tiles on the floor.  "It must be so difficult." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "This dealing with being a psychic." 
    
    "It sucks, Frase."  He leaned against the wall.  "And I'm not even psychic
    per se.  I just have...fourth dimensional vision or something weird like
    that.  I've had it explained.  Didn't make much sense." 
    
    "And Tom?" 
    
    "Psychic as they come. The whole shebooie. Visions, flashes, telepathy,
    victim stigmata." 
    
    "And the question remains: why would Calhoun call him?" 
    
    Ray made a face. "Maybe we should ask." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun.  Why did they know the name?  And why did Kowalski's jumbled
    emotions and thoughts suddenly remind him of that strange caller?  There
    was a link there.  What had Calhoun said? 
    
    His thoughts were interrupted when his cell phone rang. He sighed, flipping
    it open with an apologetic look to the detective still sitting with him.
    He knew from experience how annoying it was when a witness took a call
    during a meeting. "What? I'm /eating/," he snapped into the phone. 
    
    "Geez, psychic boy. Calm down." Millicent sounded half amused. He squeezed
    his glass of water tightly, his knuckles turning white. An itch in his
    brain. He /hated/ that glass all of the sudden. Wanted it broken...Wanted
    to see it broken.  Wanted to see the razor-sharp edges drip red.  Wanted
    to feel it break beneath his hand.  "Just thought you'd like to know
    that guy's asking for you again." 
    
    "What guy? Calhoun?" 
    
    "Yeah. You always remember their names?" 
    
    "When they think about blood letting and seeing combat during the Battle
    of the Somme, yeah, I remember their names." He sighed, letting go of
    the glass just as it started to crack. He had a slight scratch on his
    hand. Weird.  Any other day, and it would have broken instantly. "Fine.
    Patch him through..." 
    
    "Right there in the diner? Wild man." She chuckled, then he heard a series
    of clicks. 
    
    He sat back in his set, closing his eyes. He could feel Vecchio's gaze
    on him and held up one hand for him to wait before talking. "Hello?"
    
    A dry laugh. "Aren't you supposed to tell me you know what I need?" 
    
    "You know the drill. Mind if we make this quick? I'm kinda in the middle
    of something." 
    
    "No. No problems there." Another laugh. "Feels kind of prickly." 
    
    "I'm not /doing/ anything yet..." 
    
    Vecchio stared, half opened mouthed. Something told him he should leave
    the room /now/. "That's Calhoun?" he whispered, harshly. The psychic
    waved him off again. Maybe he should go get Benny. 
    
    "Mind if /I/ give it a try then, Tom?" 
    
    "What?" he asked in a dead voice. 
    
    Vecchio rose just as Benny and Stan emerged from the bathroom, both men
    looking determined.  He waved them to silence, mouthing, "Calhoun." 
    
    *** 
    
    Cold.  Like a crypt was cold.  A feeling of death.  It seeped into his
    mind and twisted around every thought and feeling, examining each like
    a photograph in an album.  Nothing went untouched, nothing that was part
    of Thomas Grissom that wasn't lead or dragged screaming to the alter.
    
    He felt this creature Calhoun flip through his memories, cast some aside,
    laugh at others, save some for the future that came all too quickly.
    He fought to hide his darker secrets, shocked that he'd succeeded.  At
    least partially. He could feel his most darkest exposed. His daughter.
    His mother. His stay in the asylum. He could feel the man's satisfaction
    at finding someone as lost and lonely as himself..  Such a strange way
    of needing someone...yet Tom could feel the need his presence fed and
    the fulfillment it brought. 
    
    But it had been so long since /anyone/ had needed him enough to actually
    seek him out. 
    
    "So," echoed the voice across the phone line, across his consciousness,
    "he's there.  You want him?  Scrawny blond?  Oh, but now his hair is
    purple." 
    
    "Stan?" wondered Tom.  Had he spoken aloud?  Could he still control his
    own voice? 
    
    "You didn't think I called just for you now, Tom, did you?" 
    
    It was a measure of how low he'd fallen that Calhoun's words lacerated.
    
    "Virgil told me you knew him.  Was that on a first name basis, or in
    the Biblical sense?" 
    
    "You ought to know by now." 
    
    "I want to hear it from you." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Didn't want him?  Then or now?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Good." Was that possessiveness he heard? For whom? Him or Stan? 
    
    "Good?" Tom echoed. 
    
    "Very good. You know, I Probably saved your life this morning. You should
    be grateful to me." 
    
    His voice was shaky. Calhoun was rifling through memories like they were
    bits of paper. His whole body trembled. Eyes were on him. "Why?" 
    
    "Why did I do it?" 
    
    "Yes...?" His breathing suddenly changed pitch, coming in quick pants.
    "Oh..." 
    
    "You like that?" 
    
    "Go to hell." He regretted that one. He cried out in pain at the sudden
    wave of heat in his head. He clutched the phone tighter with a fevered
    hand. "God..." 
    
    "Hush." 
    
    "Why'd you keep me alive?" 
    
    "Hey. You know what they say about undead Mounties."  He could almost
    see the shrug. He winced as a particularly bad memory came to the surface.
    His first experience with psychic sex. As he recalled, he'd nearly bit
    the guy's tongue out. 
    
    "What do you want?" 
    
    "Don't you know?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray sat in front of Tom, waving his hand in front of his face. He seemed
    zoned out except for the talking. What was Calhoun doing to him, saying
    to him? He looked absolutely freaked out. 
    
    Except for him breathing. He looked almost turned on by something. Was
    it possible he /knew/ Calhoun? Ray shifted, unwillingly remembering his
    encounters with Calhoun.  The Elder Gangrel had gone from hunter to protector
    to murderous outcast. 
    
    He looked up at Fraser and Vecchio, hoping for an answer.  It was so
    hard to tell with psychics.  Touch them, don't touch them, break the
    link, don't break it....there were no set rules.  And he wasn't a psychic.
    Just a Chicago flat foot and damned glad to be one. 
    
    *** 
    
    "I want you, brown eyes," hissed the voice on the phone.  "Surprise you?"
    
    "Why?" 
    
    "Let's just say you start out as a pawn.  I want you to capture a knight.
    Then it'll be checkmate." 
    
    "Who's the king?" purred Tom. Whatever Calhoun was doing now didn't hurt
    like before. It felt...good. Very good. He hadn't felt that good of a
    feeling in years. The coldness in his mind had been replaced by a golden
    warmth that enveloped him like sunshine. 
    
    Like a lover's embrace. 
    
    "Ever read your Bible?  Try Caine." 
    
    "Who's the queen?" 
    
    "Adam's first wife: Lilith." 
    
    "I've heard the name before.  What if I say no?" 
    
    "You'll never feel like /this/ again." 
    
    Then the world - and his mind- exploded in an ecstasy that defied comprehension.
    
    *** 
    
    Ray jumped back as Tom's panting groans turned into full fledged moans.
    He shifted his gaze to Fraser who seemed to have not only gone completely
    white, but also a little green around the gills. 
    
    Not that he blamed him. It wasn't everyday someone had phone sex in public,
    right in front of two cops and a Mountie. That couldn't be legal. 
    
    He was sure he should stop it. But how? Yank the phone away? Shake him
    hard? He looked at Vecchio. The detective looked ready to dust the floor
    with his jaw. 
    
    Tom's fingers trembled around the phone as whatever Calhoun was doing
    to him or saying to him finally ebbed. His eyes squeezed shut, and he
    seemed to lean forward a bit. 
    
    "Wh...who?" Tom panted, breathing hard. "Who?" 
    
    *** 
    
    "Who what, Mr. Messy Feet? Speak your mind." 
    
    "The knight...who..." 
    
    "Feeling compliant, then? How about Constable Fraser? You've met him,
    haven't you?" 
    
    "Fraser...." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray's eyes widened at the sound of Fraser's name.  A threat to Ray was
    one thing.  A threat to Fraser?  No fuckin' way! 
    
    He grabbed the phone out of Tom's grip with one hand, catching Tom with
    the other. "What are you doing, Calhoun?" 
    
    A laugh.  "What I couldn't do to you, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    Then he hung up. 
    
    Ray dropped into the seat, clutching the phone helplessly.  Oh, god,
    what a mess... 
    
    He lifted his eyes to meet Fraser's.  The Mountie looked back with sympathy
    at his confusion, reaching out one strong hand to grip Ray's shoulder.
    The police detective came back to reality. 
    
    "Let's get out of here." 
    
    *** 
    
    "What the fuck was that about, Grissom?" demanded Ray from the back seat
    of the Riv. 
    
    "Language, Ray." 
    
    "Shut up, Fraser." 
    
    "Understood." 
    
    Grissom shook himself a bit, still recovering.  "Virgil told Calhoun
    we'd met.  He's gunning for you big time, Stan." 
    
    "Will you call me Ray?  I hate Stan," snapped the weary detective. 
    
    "Ray calls you Stan," Tom pointed out, glad of the distraction. 
    
    Kowalski shook his head.  "That's cause he's Vecchio and I do not feel
    like walking back to the 27th." 
    
    "Who's Virgil?" interjected Vecchio. 
    
    "The brother of the demon that killed Carrie," Kowalski replied, removing
    his glasses to rub his eyes.  Fraser looked worried, reaching for him.
    Ray allowed the touch, knowing it was useless to hide what they were
    to each other in front of Tom. 
    
    Vecchio actually laughed.  "Virgil?" he repeated incredulously. 
    
    Despite himself, Tom chuckled, slipping back into Slayer mode.  It was
    frightening how easy it was. It had gotten very easy lately, there were
    times he'd come home and not remember how many of vampires or demons
    or whatever  he'd gotten rid of. 
    
    "Demons are obsessed with human tendencies to name things.  They also
    happen to like a lot of...less popular names.  I knew two Llywellan's,
    a Hugo, a Marvin, and four Herbert's." And a hell of a lot he hadn't
    bothered to know. 
    
    "Any Stanley's?" teased Vecchio. 
    
    Tom smiled.  The effect was charming.  "Just the one." 
    
    "Watch it, pal," threatened Kowalski in a good-humored growl.  "Can we
    get back to the topic?  Namely Calhoun bent on...what?  What did he do
    to you, Tom?  Beyond the obvious." 
    
    "A little memory digging, nothing big." Tom was lying, Fraser was sure
    of it. But he didn't press the issue. 
    
    "You said Fraser. Why?" 
    
    "I did?" 
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    Tom paused. Until he was sure what he was going to do, he didn't want
    to give away what he knew. "Just...some images I got. Nothing concrete."
    
    Vecchio eyed Tom in the loose rear view mirror. "You're sure about that?"
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    *** 
    
    Lilith entered the chamber, frowning with discontent at Calhoun. "What
    were you doing? Who were you speaking with?" 
    
    "A pawn. An old friend." Calhoun smiled at her, pushing past her into
    the hallway. She frowned. Her charm on him was wearing thin. He seemed
    to be breaking free. That wouldn't do at all. 
    
    She followed him, "And what do you plan to do with this pawn?" She spat
    the word out. 
    
    "He'll bring us the Slayer. Who will bring us Kowalski." 
    
    "You're sure of this." 
    
    Calhoun grinned, not at all modest. "I've got something he wants. Something
    he needs, craves." 
    
    She tilted her head. "The empath demons tell me you asked them to leave
    one of the psychics alone. This is he?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "He's special to you, yes?" 
    
    Calhoun frowned now, not sure how to answer that. He drew a breath. 
    "He is...useful, my Lady." 
    
    "Useful to you?  Or to my plan?" 
    
    "Don't all rivers run to the sea?" 
    
    "I often wonder if yours does still." 
    
    *** 
    
    Despite himself, Fraser was intensely curious about Tom's job.  Not the
    psychic connection thing that had both Rays rolling their eyes in disgust,
    but the actual mechanics of the business.  Coupled with his desire to
    learn /anything/ about this man Tom Grissom, he found himself greeting
    the young woman that shared the room with Tom and now another, older
    woman.  Both women smiled in greeting, the older one busy on the phone
    as Millicent waited for another call. 
    
    He watched as both of the Rays followed Tom into the small kitchen, watching
    him get an aspirin. He was so intent he almost didn't catch the look
    of disgust on Millicent's face. He half frowned, curiously. "Is there
    something wrong?" 
    
    "No." Her tone was blunt, she picked up the phone on the first ring.
    "Psychic hotline, we know what you....Oh, come on! You've gotta be...."
    She held the phone away from her ear. "Tom! It's him /again/. Your boyfriend,
    Cal." 
    
    Tom froze, closing his eyes. He swallowed the bitter pills and took the
    phone. "Yes?" 
    
    "Hey, Tom?" 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "I know what /you/ need." An amused chuckle. "I'll be at your apartment
    at ten. Be there. Alone. Tell no one." 
    
    "Fine." 
    
    A click. Tom squeezed his eyes, tighter and hung up. They watched him
    go into the bathroom. Millicent and the older woman exchanged a look.
    The older woman finished her call and followed. Ray followed her, knocking
    on the door. 
    
    "Things like this ever happen before?" 
    
    She shook her head.  "Naa.  Weird that Tom used his own name.  As a general
    rule we make something up.  Sometimes human beings want to get too touchy
    feely and it gives us a bit of distance." 
    
    Ray snorted a laugh.  "Human beings?" 
    
    She shrugged, knocking.  "People.  Whatever." 
    
    Fraser cleared his throat, turning back to Millicent. "What exactly is
    it you /do/ here?" 
    
    She smirked. "Well...we give people what they want to hear." 
    
    "What has that got to do with being psychic?"  /Be clueless,/ he thought.
    /Completely clueless./ 
    
    /Clueless.  Completely clueless,/ she thought.  "Not much.  It's easier
    than you'd think.  They're very predictable creatures." 
    
    Creatures?  Fraser cocked his head, looking at the equipment and worn
    furniture.  "Who owns this...business?" 
    
    "I never met her.  She only comes around late at night if she does comes
    at all.  Hmph.  I don't even know what to call her.  The night shift
    says she the queen bee of bitches.  Pardon my French." 
    
    "I don't believe that's a French word." 
    
    She smiled.  "Mind if I borrow that?" 
    
    "For the next time a predictable creature calls?" he quoted. 
    
    She shook her head.  "Humans.  They're a different breed." 
    
    Pretending to be absorbed in the paperwork on the desk, Fraser just nodded,
    controlling his body's reaction and keeping his heart from racing.  He
    looked up as Ray Vecchio entered.  "Ah, Ray!  Excuse me, please." 
    
    He returned his Stetson to his head and hurried to his friend's side.
    In a light tone of voice he said, "We've got a rabbit to catch, remember."
    
    Vecchio nodded instantly, recognizing the police jargon.  They had to
    bolt out of here NOW.  He turned and sauntered towards the bathroom.
    "Yo, Stan, Tom, c'mon, we've got to get a move on!  It's rabbit season!"
    
    "Huh?  Oh, sure," said Kowalski casually.  "Beula, it's been a pleasure,"
    he said to the woman beside him.  "Get the lead out, Grissom!" 
    
    Five minutes later, they were again piled into the green Riviera. 
    
    "Benny," called Ray, "What was that about?" 
    
    "Millicent was a demon, Ray.  You didn't hear her talking about humans
    as being another breed." 
    
    Kowalski gaped.  "Beula said something about human beings, too.  Like
    an animal in a cage kinda thing." 
    
    Tom gasped.  /Nice Slayer sense, Tom./ "Oh, god, I worked demon squads
    for years in Baltimore.  Why didn't I notice?" /Because you're going
    insane, that's why./ 
    
    Fraser leaned over the back seat and took Tom's wrist in his hand, lifting
    it and pushing his sleeve back a bit to expose the scabbed-over wounds
    of a suicide attempt.  "They were most likely empath demons.  I noticed
    that Millicent's eyes never dilated when she turned away from the light.
    That, coupled with their choice of vocabulary and their names..."  He
    brushed the more infected scratches with his thumb. Some of the wounds
    were from fingernails. Tom must have been under quite a bit of duress.
    "When did this happen, Tom?" 
    
    "I'm not sure," he admitted miserably.  "I...working there...sometimes
    it was the biggest high, other times I'd wake up the next day with blood
    on the sheets and..." 
    
    "You don't know how it got there," finished the Canadian.  Tom bit his
    lip, closing his eyes as he shook his head. 
    
    "So what did Calhoun want?" Kowalski asked softly. 
    
    He shook his head again.  They wouldn't understand.  Such insights and
    sympathy were disarming.  He didn't want to grow to like these men, didn't
    want to get attached because he knew what would eventually happen: things
    would sour and he'd be alone once again. 
    
    "I don't know yet," he heard himself say. 
    
    His eyes were still closed.  He didn't see the looks the three men exchanged,
    but he knew they didn't believe him. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ten o'clock, right on the dot.  Tom pulled open the door to find a rather
    annoyed-looking individual standing outside it.  He almost gasped at
    the startling appearance of this man Calhoun.  Jet black hair and ice
    blue eyes with a complexion as white as snow.  Tom did a double-take.
    No, he hadn't imagined it.  It /was/ black leather, from head to toe.
    He looked...magnificent.  They stared at each other for a minute waiting.
    "Aren't you going to..." 
    
    "You invoked the rites of passage." Calhoun glared at Tom, accusingly.
    "Don't trust me?" Not that he didn't understand that. But it still rankled.
    
    "That was years ago..." Tom suddenly froze. "You're a vampire. You're
    a fucking vampire." He stepped away from the doorway, then back. Hell.
    It wasn't like he'd never been with the undead before. "Figures. You
    promise not to bite?" A lopsided grin. 
    
    Calhoun gave him a look like a lion sizing up its prey.  Tom was suddenly
    very aware of his rumpled appearance before the sleek blackness that
    was Calhoun.  For a moment, Tom feared that the vampire would turn away,
    leave him standing here in his own door.  Then he spoke. 
    
    "Say the words, brown eyes. Break the seal, whatever. I won't bite."
    He smiled, wickedly, displaying  a set of gleaming fangs. "Unless you
    ask nice." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray lifted his binoculars, peering at the apartment building. "He lied,
    Fraser." 
    
    "Well, no, Ray. He didn't really..." 
    
    "He told us he didn't know what Calhoun wanted. Seeing as how the guy
    just walked into his apartment, I think he was lying." /Logic, be my
    friend tonight/, he thought, a tad annoyed. He sighed, shaking his head.
    "Should we go in after him?" 
    
    "He doesn't seem that inclined on /hurting/ Tom."  Fraser bit his lower
    lip thoughtfully and Ray blinked as all logical thought ceased in his
    brain. "I think he's pretty much a big part of whatever plans Lilith
    makes. He probably knew about what happened this afternoon. Maybe he's
    trying to protect him." 
    
    Ray looked at him, shaking his head again. "Yer a freak, Fraser." 
    
    "Understood." 
    
    "Glad yer /my/ freak." 
    
    "Thank you kindly, Ray." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom sat on the couch in front of Calhoun. "Why do you want the Slayer?"
    His voice was barely a whisper. He rubbed at his wrist, it ached and
    throbbed painfully. He really should have it checked out, but he just
    didn't give a damn any more. 
    
    Why should he? No one else did 
    
    "I don't. Lilith does." Calhoun didn't know why he was telling Tom this.
    This was not why he'd come here. He could barely remember why he had.
    
    Tom nodded, not pressing the issue. He felt Calhoun's fingers around
    his wrist, feeling the ugly wounds with a gentle touch. "Empath demons."
    
    Calhoun swore under his breath as he lifted Tom's wrist.  The hold was
    gentle.  Tender, even, and sent the psychic's pulse racing.  He tensed
    as the vampire turned his arm, exposing the cuts and scratches.  Shock
    coursed through him when Calhoun pressed his lips to his wrist.  He swallowed,
    wide eyed with surprise at a gesture at once so intimate and sensual.
    
    "It was Beula and Millicent," the vampire whispered.  "I'll make sure
    they pay for this." 
    
    "Would you?  Please?" he breathed, amazed that anyone cared enough to
    get angry on his account. 
    
    "They're empath demons.  Lilith  uses them to keep an eye out for potential
    psychics.  That's how I found you the first time I called to check up
    on them.  This is their idea of fun." 
    
    Tom blinked.  Calhoun was landing revelation after revelation on him
    and it was confusing and disorientating.  He stammered out the first
    thing that came to mind. 
    
    "Fraser figured out what they were." 
    
    Calhoun smirked.  "He's an intelligent man, is our Mounted Slayer." 
    
    "Why Fraser?  Why does Lilith want him?" 
    
    Calhoun pressed his lips to Tom's salty palm.  "Because, if you have
    Fraser, you have Kowalski.  Lilith wants Kowalski." 
    
    "But why?" 
    
    Ice-blue eyes met brown ones.  "Prince Kowalski, when he goes over, is
    the perfect host and paladin for Lilith.  She's waited generations for
    him.  Caine has him now and Lilith wants him back under her power." 
    
    It was getting harder to think straight with those long, cool fingers
    caressing his hand.  God, such a touch.  As if Tom Grissom were something
    worthy of being worshipped.  Loved. Cared for. Such a feeling as he had
    not experienced in too long a time.  It was heady and intoxicating and
    addictive.  Tom felt a longing so great he knew he would do anything,
    pay any price, for it to go on. 
    
    "Would you?" murmured Calhoun, lifting his other hand to trace the lines
    of Tom's deathly-pale face.  A slight frown touched his handsome face.
    Tom was unhealthy, worn down by the stresses of the psychic assaults
    and his own insecurities. 
    
    The psychic drew a shuddering breath, his heart racing at the memory
    of the sensation Calhoun had given him.  He craved more.  So much more.
    He had been alone for so long, satisfying the perversions of others.
    
    "Would you?" echoed Calhoun. 
    
    Tom let out a soft moan as the warmth of Calhoun's...yes, his /desire/
    flooded through his mind once again.  Tom forced his eyes to open, wanting
    to see what this feeling did to the hard lines of the vampire's face.
    There was something there.  Something Tom saw or sensed that told him
    this was real. 
    
    "Would you?" The sudden brush of lips against his. He moaned, uncontrolled.
    
    "...yes..." The room was spinning fast. He wanted to cry. 
    
    And Calhoun blew his mind again.  Lights, bright and flashing. He was
    screaming. Moaning. And it was /good/. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Ya got lawn jockey duty tomorrow?" asked Ray through a long yawn. 
    
    "No, but I'm sure I'll be on sentry duty," Fraser replied, taking the
    binoculars back and adjusting them.  "She hasn't forgotten the Mustang."
    
    "That was last month." 
    
    "So it was." 
    
    "Well...I'll swing by before lunch and try ta make ya laugh, okay?" 
    
    "That's very thoughtful, Ray, but I don't think Inspector Thatcher would
    appreciate it." 
    
    "I ain't interested in /her/ approval, Benton-buddy, just yours." 
    
    Fraser smiled, blushing in the darkness.  "You already have it, Ray."
    
    "Yeah, well, if lover vamp would ever scram, I'll give ya a chance ta
    prove it." 
    
    "I don't believe he'll be coming out any time soon, Ray."  Fraser lowered
    the binoculars. "I believe he's in for the long haul, as you would put
    it." 
    
    "Great..." He caught the look Fraser's face. "Ohhh. Great...." He leaned
    forward pulling Fraser into a deep kiss, twining his hands in the Mountie's
    hair. "Frayze. Maybe we should..." 
    
    "Back seat?" Fraser managed to get out. 
    
    "Mm." He pulled Fraser close again, lingering this time. They had plenty
    of time. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom lay sprawled against Calhoun, who was finally sitting on the couch
    with him. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. "What is
    it you want me to do?" he managed to get out in a slur. 
    
    Calhoun continued to caress the angry wounds. He'd get them for that.
    He smoothed Tom's hair back, wondering how long it had been since the
    psychic had actually washed it well. He sighed, laying back on the couch.
    "Go to sleep. We'll discuss it in the morning." 
    
    He was shocked by how easily the psychic fell asleep.  Clearly he needed
    it desperately.   He needed someone to care for him and Calhoun was shocked
    to find he was mentally putting himself in that role.  Sleep soon followed
    for him as well until he woke up several hours later to the feel of Tom
    squirming out of his grip. "Wha-?" 
    
    Unconsciously, Tom scratched at the scars, hard. Drawing blood. Crying
    out in pain. Calhoun tried gently shaking him awake. "Hey. Wake up..."
    
    Tom roused with a start, staring at the vampire like a frightened child.
    
    "W-wha-?" he gasped.  "Why - where...where are they?" He was disoriented,
    completely out of it. 
    
    Calhoun shifted, putting his arms around Grissom from behind and carefully
    taking his wrists in either hand.  He wasn't afraid. No. He was never
    afraid. Was he? "They're not here.  Only I am.  Go back to sleep, Thomas.
    I'll keep them from you." 
    
    He felt the man relax into his hold.  In a small voice Tom whispered,
    "Do you have a name besides Calhoun?" 
    
    For a moment he hesitated.  No one had called him by his Christian name
    for...over a century.  He actually had to think for a moment.  "James
    Kilpatrick." 
    
    "James...," said Tom with a sleepy smile, trying out the name, and Calhoun
    was suddenly struck by the power this one had over him.  It was frightening
    and thrilling at the same time.  He waited until Tom was asleep, then
    licked the blood clean from his torn wrists. 
    
    *** 
    
    They abandoned the stake out at 0230, too tired to be genuinely interested
    if Calhoun left, sucked Grissom dry, or flew off disguised as a bat.
    They just wanted to sleep. 
    
    Dief had been left alone too long.  The apartment was dismantled.  He
    had eaten all the toothpaste, threaded a dozen or more socks through
    the spokes on Ray's bike, and if it had been left out, it was elsewhere
    now.  A chair had been pulled over to the turtle's aquarium, and in a
    fit of panic, Ray rushed over to check on his pet. 
    
    "Petunia!" 
    
    The turtle looked up at him with slow patience.  Dief's look was far
    less benevolent. 
    
    A sleepy Fraser looked around at the mess.  "Dief...Oof!" 
    
    Sensing trouble with his name on it, the werekid tried for the loving
    cuteness angle and tackled his human in a firm hug. 
    
    "Leave it." 
    
    "Ray..." 
    
    "Frase, I can guarantee it'll all be here tomorrow, too.  See those socks?
    They never go anywhere without me.  Honest.  And that remote?  Laziest
    thing I own.  Never moves unless I do it.  Come on now.  We both need
    to sleep and I need a Mountie to snuggle up to." 
    
    "Well, all right, Ray." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray Kowalski loped up the steps to the consolate, taking them two at
    a time.  Dief followed at his heels, excited at being back in the familiar
    building.  There was no sign of Ray's favorite Canadian export standing
    like a toy soldier to defend Canadian soil from god only knew what. 
    Shocking.  Maybe the dry cleaning was ready and the Ice Queen had him
    out doing her useless and thoroughly degrading errands. God, he hated
    the way she treated Fraser.  She did not deserve such a man on her staff.
    Turnbull either.  Luckily, Thatcher had no notion of Turnbull's status
    as a Seeker.  Heaven only knew what miracles she would expect out of
    him them.  She had enough trouble with Ray becoming a Prince. 
    
    "Yo, Turnbull!" 
    
    "Welcome to Canada, Detective Kowalski," smiled the constable, looking
    up from the report on his desk. 
    
    "Thanks.  Where is she?" 
    
    "Out to lunch with the Mexican and French liaisons." 
    
    "Lucky you.  Where's Fraser." 
    
    Turnbull blinked.  "Constable Fraser is at his post." 
    
    "And today that would be...?" 
    
    "He's on sentry duty, Detective." 
    
    "Unless he's invisible he isn't out front." 
    
    Ray did NOT like the look of concern that spread across Turnbull's face.
    
    *** 
    
    "What?" Ray demanded as he followed Turnbull out the front door. "What's
    going on?" 
    
    "There was a car parked outside for an inordinately long period of time.
    I thought nothing of it. I think maybe I should have..." He noticed Ray
    sniffing the air. "Vampire?" 
    
    "Human." He recognized the smell. Tom. He glanced down as Dief tugged
    on his sleeve. He was holding Fraser's stetson. That settled it. Something
    had definitely happened here. 
    
    Turnbull took the hat, turning it over in his hands. There was a stain
    of blood on the rim. "Ray, we need to call the police..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser woke up tied to a chair, his head aching badly. He could remember
    talking to Tom in front of consulate, or rather Tom talking to him. He
    was on duty, after all.  And then suddenly there was a slam to the side
    of his head. He remembered being shocked that someone as worn as Tom
    looked could hit that hard, or wield a book that heavy with such strength..
    Everything had gone black. 
    
    He raised his head, looking at Tom. He was sitting on a cot playing with
    a rather new looking bandage on his wrist.  Calhoun was by the door,
    watching Tom with the oddest expression on his face. Affection? 
    
    They were waiting for something. Or someone. 
    
    And when that someone entered, Fraser seriously thought that he would
    die. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Turnbull, I AM the police." 
    
    "Oh.  Yes, of course, Detective," he stammered, flustered. 
    
    "Do me a favor, Turnbull, and go call Vecchio.  Get him here now.  I
    don't care what he's doing.  Tell him what happened." 
    
    He carried the hat indoors and sat down in the entrance hall.  He could
    hear the Constable on the phone at the desk.  He glanced around for Dief
    and when he had the werewolf's attention, he pointed at the light switch.
    
    "Get it, boy.  Get the light." 
    
    This was Dief's latest accomplishment - figuring out lights.  It had
    been a mistake because now the lights in the apartment got flipped on
    and off at all hours and Ray had been blinded more than once, but right
    now it had its uses. 
    
    Turnbull looked up in renewed surprise when the entrance was plunged
    into twilight, but he spotted Dief by the switch and glanced over as
    Ray whipped off his glasses the better to see the Stetson. 
    
    /I can't believe I'm doing this,/ thought Kowalski as he put his face
    to the stiff material.  He inhaled deeply.  He could smell Fraser and
    sweat and soap.  His eyes went to the drying drops of blood and he glanced
    over at Turnbull to make sure the Constable was not looking when he licked
    the drops.  Fraser's blood alright.  Damn. 
    
    He turned it over, still exploring.  He could smell the distilled sweat
    of an undead and to his revulsion he recognized the scent.  Calhoun.
    But it wasn't /off/ of Calhoun. 
    
    He'd gotten too close too many times not to be intimate with that particular
    smell.   Had Tom helped?  Must have.  That was what last night was about.
    Planning this. 
    
    Taken away in a car.  Damn, damn, damn! 
    
    He returned the red glasses to his face and rose.  "Dief, lights.  Good
    boy." 
    
    Turnbull approached him.  "Detective Vecchio is on his way." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Like the look, Ben?" Lilith came towards Fraser, smiling with a cruel
    smirk. "I thought you might like to see a more familiar face." 
    
    Fraser's voice was barely a hoarse whisper when he spoke. "Why?" Why
    use /her/ face? His mother's face. It was a perversion in it's self.
    He looked back towards Tom,wanting to know why he'd done this. Why he'd
    helped them. Earlier he'd seemed afraid of Calhoun  Now....now, he wasn't
    so sure. 
    
    Victoria...no, Lilith followed his gaze, then nodded once. "Calhoun.
    the empath demons tell me you've been interrupting their manipulations
    on the psychic." She shot him a glare. "Why?" 
    
    Calhoun let out a breath. He'd had to restrain Tom the entire night.
    The fucking things kept coming at Tom's psyche like it was a magnet and
    they were nails. "He's /useful/, my lady..." He spat out the word. He
    was definitely having second thoughts about working for her side of the
    board. 
    
    "We're not talking usefulness, we're talking revenge. You are /not/ to
    interrupt them any more. We need the empath demons more than we need
    a worthless, psychic phone whore. Is. That. Clear?"  She pressed the
    point by poking her finger at Calhoun. 
    
    "Perfectly," Calhoun hissed through gritted teeth. 
    
    "Good."  Her voice was sweet again, and she turned to Fraser. "I'll tend
    to you later..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Vecchio found the weapon in the bushes. A rather large book. The Necronomicon.
    /Figures,/ he thought. He handed it to Ray, who sniffed at the blood
    on the back cover. "Fraser?" 
    
    "Yeah. Fuck!" Ray kicked the garbage bin outside the consulate. "I trusted
    him. We were trying to protect him and he...fuck!" 
    
    "You don't know what happened for sure. Maybe Calhoun forced him to..."
    
    "No. I know." Ray shook his head, miserably. "I know." 
    
    *** 
    
    It was roughly ten minutes later when it happened. The three of them
    were sitting, quietly. Fraser, reluctant to speak to any of them, Tom
    not sure what to do and Calhoun apparently not wanting to leave Tom's
    side despite Lilith's orders. And then Tom's face scrunched up and he
    tore at the bandages on his wrists. Calhoun winced, looking away as the
    demons did their work. 
    
    Fraser stared in revulsion and pity as Tom tried to mutilate himself,
    small sounds of pain escaping his throat as he tore at his own wrists.
    Unable to stand it any more, Calhoun abruptly left the doorway where
    he'd been standing and seized Tom from behind, restraining him bodily.
    Tom fought in desperation, weeping with frustration. 
    
    "Stop!  Stop, please!" begged Calhoun. 
    
    Fraser was stunned by the vampire.  Calhoun...cared about Tom.  For a
    long while they struggled until Tom was exhausted and he could no longer
    contend with the vampire's strength.  He collapsed, but Calhoun did not
    release his grip as he sat down, holding Tom as he whispered words of
    comfort. 
    
    Understanding filled Fraser.  He had been in a similar position not so
    long ago when Lilith had called - and nearly killed - Ray.  Fraser had
    let Ray go, let him rush headlong into possible death because there was
    no other course and because he loved Ray enough to trust his actions.
    Calhoun clearly had less choice.  Tom was being driven to suicide.  The
    Mountie's sympathy grew, remembering Ray and his flashes, how helpless
    he was to help his lover. 
    
    As if he sensed Fraser's pity, Calhoun looked up and regarded the Slayer.
    He knew this man hated to see anything in pain, and he remembered a visioned
    shared with Kowalski where this Mountie fearlessly faced some nameless
    enemy of the vampires without concern for himself.  Then he looked at
    the writhing form of Tom Grissom, this man that meant more than anything
    to him. 
    
    "Will he take him?" Calhoun demanded abruptly. 
    
    "Who?" whispered Fraser. 
    
    "Kowalski.  Will he guard this man?" 
    
    "Why would he?  He helped you kidnap me." 
    
    There was desperation in the Sabbat's voice.  "He's innocent.  I did
    that.  Blame me." 
    
    "Why Tom?" 
    
    Calhoun looked uncomfortable but plunged on.  "He is descended from my
    wife's family.  Her maiden name was Grissom.  I didn't understand until
    after I...she died that she was psychic.  It's in their blood." 
    
    He lifted one hand to stroke Tom's raven-black hair with a tender possessiveness
    that belied his bloodthirsty side.  "He looks just like Marianne." 
    
    Fraser was speechless. 
    
    "Will Prince Kowalski help?" 
    
    "He'll want me back." 
    
    "I can't do that now.  Not yet, anyway.  You're too heavily guarded."
    
    Fraser hesitated.  True to his nature, he wanted badly to help Tom. 
    The psychic let out a whimper and tried to bring his free hand over to
    the one Calhoun held.  The empath demons were destroying him.  Fraser
    had to act. 
    
    "He will.  If I ask," he added, ashamed to have to resort to such measures
    to help a man Ray felt had betrayed them. 
    
    Calhoun nodded.  "Tell me something Kowalski will know so he'll know
    I've spoken to you." 
    
    "Tell him...Her Majesty's own lawn jockey respectfully requests that
    he sees to the well-being of this man and the sacred Stetson." 
    
    Calhoun blinked.  He couldn't have made that up on his own. 
    
    Fraser nodded. "He'll understand." 
    
    *** 
    
    He drove the car, tinted windows up, towards the consulate. He'd had
    one of his clansmen call the consulate and make sure Kowalski was there.
    He stroked Tom's hair, trying to sound comforting. The psychic's head
    rested on his knee. It hadn't been difficult to sneak Tom out. Lilith
    hadn't really wanted the psychic to stay anyway. 
    
    He held his phone to his ear, pressing down on the gas pedal. "Tell everyone.
    We no longer answer to the Dark Mother. Tell them I'll find ways to contact
    Caine, then dig themselves a hole and pull the dirt over until I contact
    them again." 
    
    He turned onto the consulate's drive, and parked. He threw his cell phone
    in the back seat, and helped Tom sit up. He got out of the car and lifted
    the wasted form out, whispering, "Come on. We're going to get help..."
    
    *** 
    
    Kowalski was talking to Vecchio as they waited for Caine to arrive, or
    to get a call from Lilith about whatever the hell she wanted /this/ time.
    They expected those things. They did not expect the door to be kicked
    open or Calhoun to enter carrying a shaking form. 
    
    "Kowalski!" Calhoun shouted, staring down the barrels of the guns suddenly
    in his face.  Turnbull stood tall behind the Americans, a stake ready
    in his hands. 
    
    Growled Kowalski, "Give me one fuckin' fabulous reason not to blow your
    god-damned head off, Calhoun!" 
    
    "Fraser." 
    
    "What?" Vecchio demanded. 
    
    "Her Majesty's own lawn jockey respectfully requests that you see to
    the safety and well being of this man and the Sacred Stetson." 
    
    Ray's mouth nearly dropped open. "What?" Fraser had sent them? What was
    going on? 
    
    "And I hereby claim allegiance of the Sabbat Clans to the Lord Caine
    and to you." Calhoun's voice suddenly shook. He lowered his eyes. "The
    constable's alive. She doesn't have any intention of hurting him. Yet."
    
    "What do you want?" 
    
    "He needs help. They're killing him..." 
    
    "The demons?  What the hell do you care?" Vecchio snapped.  Like Kowalski,
    he had yet to lower his gun. 
    
    Calhoun turned, ignoring the weapons.  "Is there somewhere I can put
    him?" 
    
    "Why should we let you?" demanded Kowalski.  "You two kidnapped Fraser
    for the psycho bitch from hell and now expect me ta protect ya?  That's
    rich!" 
    
    "I will help you get your Slayer back, Prince Kowalski.  At the time
    I did not know the extent of the Dark Mother's ire - " 
    
    "Oh," Vecchio exclaimed, "so there /is/ a limit!" 
    
    Frustrated, Calhoun glared.  "This man Tom Grissom is important to me
    in many ways, Detectives, Seeker." 
    
    "What, you in love?" Vecchio could barely contain the sneer. 
    
    "Among other things," hissed Calhoun at Vecchio since he could no longer
    speak back to Kowalski. 
    
    Ray Kowalski's head was pounding.  /Not a flash.  Not now.  Please!/
    Just then, the lights turned off.  "Dief!  Away from the lights!" he
    yelled without looking.  Light returned to the consolate as he turned
    to Turnbull for help.  "Well?" 
    
    Seeker mode. Turnbull tilted his head. "You swear on your oath as a Mountie?"
    
    Vecchio stared at Turnbull. Calhoun was a Mountie? No way. 
    
    "Yes." Calhoun shifted Tom's weight, wincing as Tom came awake, scrabbling
    at his wrists again. "No. Don't....Tom..." 
    
    Turnbull stepped into action, helping Calhoun get the psychic onto the
    couch. Quickly, he muttered something under his breath.. Ray couldn't
    quite hear it. It seemed to calm Tom down, though. 
    
    Turnbull caught the look on Ray's face. "Warding spell. It won't last
    long..." They all looked up again as Caine entered. 
    
    "What's happened? Why have you..." Caine froze when he saw Calhoun, fighting
    the urge to frenzy and destroy the man who had harmed his son so badly
    and so often. He barely noticed the man on the couch. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser worked at his bindings, biting his lower lip. He stopped when
    she came back in. She looked visibly frustrated. "You did this didn't
    you, Benton?  You and Prince Kowalski and your little dreams of love."
    She tilted his head from side to side. "Filled my slave's head with ideas
    of affection. He's taken the Sabbat to Caine. I should take something
    of yours..." She smiled. "No?" 
    
    A cold sweat broke out on his skin.  Would she hurt Ray again?  Dief?
    What did he have beyond...himself? 
    
    It was so hideous to hear his mother's voice form such hateful words.
    Fraser kept his mask on, though, even when she leaned close and kissed
    him so long and deep he thought he might pass out. 
    
    *** 
    
    Kowalski hurried to intercept Caine before he got too far into Canada.
    "Aja, wait a sec.  Please.  Tom needs help.  I was the only one who could
    protect them.  Fraser sent them-" 
    
    The calm, brown eyes turned to Ray.  There was something about Caine
    that soothed Ray in a way very different from Fraser.  He took a breath
    without being told and started anew. 
    
    "Okay.  You've got no idea what's been goin' on since Friday at the 13th.
    Okay.  Dief!  Turn the lights on again!  I said to cut it out!  Show
    off at Warfield's!" 
    
    "Sit with me, my childe," invited Caine, taking the bench seat by the
    door.  Ray sat and the whole story of the past weekend tumbled out. 
    It took a long time since his thoughts scattered periodically. 
    
    "...so Fraser sent them to me and Calhoun will help us against Lilith.
    Did I leave anything out?" 
    
    Caine considered.  "Where will you keep Thomas?" 
    
    "Is there /anywhere/ we can protect him from those demons?" 
    
    "It is not a matter of place, it is a matter of power and spells." 
    
    "What can I do, then?" begged Ray. 
    
    "You could ask me." 
    
    He smiled at the ancient man.  "Will you help, Aja?" 
    
    "For you, my son, I would move the mountains and call down the sun."
    
    "Please.  I want to go find Fraser.  I'm going crazy without him." 
    
    Caine nodded sympathetically. "The Giovanni have put out search parties.
    We'll find him. You said he's bringing us the Sabbat?" 
    
    "Yeah. 'Claiming allegiance' or something." Ray looked at him. "Is that
    good?" 
    
    "It's very good." Caine did not explain how. He stood, holding his hand
    out to Ray. "Shall we get to work?" 
    
    "Here?" 
    
    "Warfield would not allow a creature such of he and the Sabbat Elder
    into his sanctuary. It shall be here." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser felt fingers scratching at the back of his head, drawing blood.
    He fought to loosen her grip on his skull, to pull away from the airless
    kiss. He was sure it would kill him if he couldn't. 
    
    Suddenly he wondered if this was how she'd overpowered Calhoun. He could
    see how that could do it. 
    
    A small pocket of fear began to form in the back of his mind. /She's
    not going to stop. I won't be able to breathe...she'll kill me.../ He
    struggled harder. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray exhaled deeply, suddenly and looked at the ceiling.  His headache
    had gotten worse. It felt like there were thousands of coal miners trying
    to pound their way out of his head. He inhaled, but felt like he wasn't
    actually taking in any air. 
    
    Calhoun, ordered to stay in the hallway with Ray and trying to drown
    out Tom's screams of terror and agony as Caine helped him (please, please
    let him help), looked up. "What's wrong with you?" 
    
    Ray waved him off.  "Headache.  Just...stay over there." 
    
    Vecchio had gone to fetch some bandages from Fraser's office and overheard.
    He hurried the medical supplies to Turnbull and went over to where Kowalski
    sat in the hall.  He was panting like he'd just finished a marathon.
    
    "Stan?" 
    
    He started to gulp at the air, his chest too tight to inhale deeply.
    It hurt.  Oh, god, his chest was burning.  His heart was racing with
    a fear he could not name.  Ray surged to his feet, grasping Turnbull's
    desk as he tried to draw a breath.  His vision swam and he felt a pain
    against his mouth, down his throat, as if he was being crushed.  Vecchio
    seized him before he could fall. 
    
    "Help me!" he ordered the willing Calhoun.  They lowered the gasping
    detective to the floor.  "Stan!  Stan, calm down!  What is it?" 
    
    His eyes shot open.  Confusion and fear were reflected there, and in
    a hoarse voice he wondered, 
    
    "Mom?" 
    
    Then he passed out. 
    
    *** 
    
    Lilith stepped away from the unconscious Mountie.  He'd recover quickly.
    She was pleased by his reaction to her new appearance.  She had done
    it especially for him. 
    
    Calhoun's defection rankled.  All over that skinny whore that should
    have died on Friday with the rest of Chicago's psychic defenders.  Damn
    him.  She would see that he paid.  The price wasn't too high - just the
    whore's life.  Not that he was worth too much, but he did something for
    Calhoun.  Well, she would do something for him. 
    
    "Virgil!" 
    
    The tiny demon shuffled into her presence and bowed.  What a revolting
    creature, she mused. The brother of the Enthos that Kowalski and Calhoun's
    whore had offed. 
    
    "My Lady," he groveled. 
    
    "Contact Beula and Millicent.  I want Calhoun's little psychic whore
    dead by his own hand by the end of the day.  If they can't manage it,
    I want to know." She smirked. If they couldn't, she would. Just as she
    was slowly doing to Fraser. 
    
    "Yes, my Lady." 
    
    She turned as Fraser stirred.  Leaning down in front of him, she smiled
    sweetly.  "Good morning, Constable.  Sleep well?  Where were we, darling?
    Catching up on old times?  Mother and son?" 
    
    Fraser closed his eyes.  He didn't want to see her ever again. 
    
    *** 
    
    He regained consciousness, but kept his eyes closed.  He could feel his
    face being bathed with a damp towel and voices discussing him, but his
    mind was fixed elsewhere.  He needed to think, and now was as good a
    time as any.  Better, in fact, since no one would interrupt him. 
    
    Last month he had received the mother of all flashes.  The moment had
    been so intense, so brutal, that he had honestly hoped it would kill
    him.  It had happened so fast that his mind had not been able to sort
    out what the images were, the end result being a blackness in his mind
    so complete it had overwhelmed him.  He nearly had gotten his wish. 
    If Fraser and Aja hadn't been there, Ray knew he most likely would have
    died. 
    
    But as he recovered, his mind had begun the process of unravelling the
    scenes of the future he had been witness to.  The blackness he now understood
    was the demons in their true form - too black and evil to see with mere
    human eyes.  He should have seen the 13th's disaster coming.  He just
    couldn't understand that this flash had been on more than one level.
    
    But emerging to him also was the image of a woman with dark hair and
    blue eyes the same shade as Fraser's.  She was beautiful, but why did
    he fear her?  And where had he seen her?  Why did Fraser recoil from
    her? 
    
    /Fraser?/ 
    
    Oh, god. 
    
    He forced his eyes open, then nearly screamed in pain. 
    
    "Kowalski!"  It was Calhoun. 
    
    "Get his glasses!" ordered Vecchio. 
    
    A moment later the glasses were being fixed over his eyes and he struggled
    to get up. 
    
    "Hey!  Take it easy, Stan!  Slow down." 
    
    "The picture.  The picture for Christmas.  Where's it?" 
    
    "What picture?" 
    
    "F-Fraser.  His desk?  The picture-" 
    
    Calhoun shrugged and trotted over to Fraser's office, searching the desk.
    There were only three pictures there: One of the Slayer and Vecchio,
    the Slayer and Kowalski and the werewolf, and an older picture.  Calhoun
    lifted it.  He recognized the Mountie in it as the one that had spoken
    to him when he had performed the letting on Kowalski.  The child was
    clearly Fraser.  And the woman...? 
    
    Lilith. 
    
    No.  The eyes were not the same cold hardness.  This was Fraser's mother.
    
    No wonder the Slayer had been horrified. 
    
    He hurried back to Kowalski and handed him the framed photo.  "This?"
    
    "That's her!  I saw her!  Is his mom alive?" 
    
    Vecchio made a face.  He'd had quite enough experience with the dead
    coming back to life. 
    
    "No," Calhoun replied.  "Lilith has taken her form." 
    
    "Oh, god..." 
    
    Turnbull and Caine emerged from the back office just as the door to the
    Consolate opened and Inspector Margaret Thatcher returned from her luncheon.
    She was already glaring. 
    
    "Turnbull!  Where is Constable Fraser?" 
    
    "Ah!" squeaked the Constable.  "Ah.  Ma'am.  Uh...allow me to introduce
    Mr. Calhoun.  He's from Canada and he's..." 
    
    Calhoun jumped in, smiling his most charming smile while not letting
    her get a look at his fangs.  "My paperwork has been lost or stolen,
    Inspector.  I'm just trying to see if I can get another copy of my birth
    certificate faxed here." 
    
    Vecchio raised a hand.  "I'm taking the report since I'm here." 
    
    She turned her look on Caine.  "And you are?" 
    
    Caine put Calhoun's considerable charms to shame.  "I am Raymond Kowalski's
    father, my dear lady.  Such a pleasure to finally meet you.  Raymond
    has had such praise for you and your staff." 
    
    She didn't even waste a glare on Kowalski and clearly she didn't believe
    a word of any of it, but was in no position to contradict any of them.
    "Where.  Is.  Fraser?" 
    
    It was Kowalski's turn.  "Court.  He was subpoenaed this morning.  It
    was either go or I'd have to arrest 'em." 
    
    "I want to see the subpoena." 
    
    "I'll have it for you tomorrow, Inspector," he promised. 
    
    "I'm sure you will." Thatcher gave them all a look that let them know
    she was going to let this one slide. She turned her head to Turnbull.
    "Is there someone in there?" 
    
    "Um. My friend." Calhoun said, unnerved by the wiccan. "He had a minor
    accident." 
    
    Ray nodded. "We're taking him home now." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom felt /bad/. That was the only way he could describe it. After nearly
    an hour of being restrained by three people, one of them apparently some
    vampire king, and nearly killing himself, he felt /bad/. Drained. 
    
    Hollow.  Empty and alone. 
    
    Like he felt everyday. 
    
    He felt Calhoun rubbing circles on his back, holding him close. "You're
    all right. They're going to help you..." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Yes..." 
    
    "No, they..." He scrunched up his face as he felt it starting again.
    He felt Calhoun tense beside him and tried to hold it back. He didn't
    want to hurt him. "God...." 
    
    "Breathe, Tom." 
    
    He felt hands holding him down, and a stirring in his stomach that he
    recognised. 
    
    /Oh God...Not now...No.../ 
    
    Calhoun looked at him. Something had changed. "What is it? What's wrong?"
    
    "Sta...Ray?" 
    
    Ray looked back, peering over the top of his glasses. He looked shocked
    that he'd even spoken. "What is it?" 
    
    "How long..." 
    
    "How long what?" 
    
    "How long since the...Enthos...Cecil..." 
    
    "Since he's been pushing up daisies?  Uh...Four years about.  Why?" 
    
    Tom swallowed, groping for Calhoun's hand.  "Oh, Christ...oh, god, not
    now!" Not now, not ever. Never. No. Please... 
    
    "What?" demanded Kowalski with growing impatience. 
    
    Caine frowned, pressing forward.  Gently, he eased the Sabbat aside and
    studied Tom, running his hands up and down his body without actually
    touching him, smelling him deeply and finally tasting the thin sheen
    of sweat on his cheek.  Then he put his ear to Tom's belly.  Five sets
    of wide eyes watched without a clue as to what to expect. 
    
    Caine lifted his head and looked at Tom with something akin to wonder
    in those soft brown eyes.  "You have done this before?" he asked. 
    
    Tom's eyes flew open in shock.  How could he know?  Even the demons didn't
    know. Finally he managed to stammer, "M-my daughter." 
    
    The ancient vampire smiled.  "Then you must prepare for a son." 
    
    "I...I know." 
    
    Calhoun dropped to the floor like a marionette whose strings have been
    cut and sat there staring.  The two Rays gaped.  Turnbull held his head
    while Dief cocked his. Caine continued to smile that gentle smile and
    Tom just lay there and tried to absorb the fact that he was finally going
    to be a father again. 
    
    Ray was the first to recover. "We've gotta get him outta here." He gently
    nudged at Calhoun with his boot. The vampire looked like he was in shock.
    Was that possible? "Help me get him up." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser opened his eyes. He was no longer in the chair, but chained to
    the cot Tom had been lying on. The smell of it. Of Tom. There was something
    /wrong/ with it. He couldn't pin point what, exactly. He heard the door
    open and shook those thoughts away. 
    
    "I know what you're doing." He shook his head, vehemently. "It won't
    work..." 
    
    She didn't say anything, just sat beside him, stroking his hair back.
    
    "It won't...There's nothing you can do..." His thoughts were interrupted
    as she whipped out a photo and a lighter. A picture of him and Ray. She
    lit it on fire, letting the ashes fall on him. Blowing it out when the
    only part left was of him.  "I don't...I don't understand..." 
    
    "He's Probably dead, you know." 
    
    His voice was barely a croak. "Wh...what?" 
    
    "Thanks to Beula and Millicent, he can feel everything I did. It probably
    killed him." She gave him a kiss and left. 
    
    Fraser closed his eyes, refusing to believe her.  He would know if anything
    had happened to Ray.  He's felt the detective's distress in the past.
    He would know. Ray was his soul, as he was to Ray. He would know. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ma Vecchio opened the door to her house and stared open mouthed at her
    son and the man she considered a second son. Between them they held a
    thin, rather wrung out looking man. She gasped, letting them pass as
    Caine, Calhoun and Turnbull filed in, followed by Dief. 
    
    "Where's Benton, Raimundo?" she asked gently and regretted it when she
    saw the look on their faces. "Oh no..." 
    
    "We'll get him back, Ma." Vecchio nodded, assuredely. They got Tom onto
    the sofa, carefully. "You ok? You're good?" 
    
    "Yeah...I'm ok...bit hungry..." He didn't say what he was hungry for.
    No need to scare them any more. He felt Calhoun sit beside him, and squeezed
    the vampire's hand. 
    
    "What's going on? Who is this?" She looked at Caine, letting her confusion
    show. The ancient took her hand, leading her away from the crowd filling
    the living room.  Settling her down at the kitchen table, he explained
    as much as he could without telling her anything that might bring her
    harm.  She was shocked and amazed and immediately wanted to mother that
    poor young man Thomas. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun traced the scars on Tom's wrist to Ray's revulsion. "You have
    a daughter..." 
    
    "Mm." Tom felt a bolt of pain. "When I was....away.....my mom got custody.
    I tried to get her back...that's how I got stuck working at the hotline..."
    
    "I don't understand," Calhoun shook his head. "How could that have anything
    to do with it?" 
    
    "Hey!"  Kowalski seized Calhoun's shoulder.  "Hey, lover boy!  He's safe!
    Now live up to your end of this, pal.  Where the hell is Fraser?" 
    
    Calhoun shook himself, coming back down to earth.  He looked up at the
    angry faces of the two detectives and the Seeker and nodded.  "Who will
    care for him?" 
    
    "Aja and Ma fer now," growled Kowalski.  "I sent for the McGets.  They're
    strong enough to deal with him." 
    
    "Thank you, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "Fraser.  Now." 
    
    "You won't be able to get to him until she makes her move. He's too heavily
    guarded." 
    
    "Prove it," snapped Kowalski. He paused as Caine entered the room, carrying
    a glass filled with a reddish brown liquid. He handed it to Tom, helping
    him sit up and drink it. Tom gulped it down quick to the amazement and
    near disgust of the others. "Ground beef?" 
    
    "Yes," Caine nodded. "Raymond, I'm sure that Lilith has moved Benton.
    Calhoun's defection would have insured that..." 
    
    "Son of a bitch..." Ray sat down with a thud. 
    
    "But we will find him." 
    
    "James..." Tom looked at Calhoun, sounding for the world like his deceased
    wife. "Help them...ok? You know what she wants, tell them..." He touched
    Calhoun's face, gently. He felt like there was a riot going on inside
    him, but this was more important. His stomach ached as the child made
    it known that it was ready. He did his best to postpone it. 
    
    Calhoun nodded. "All right..." He rubbed his jaw. "Caine. She wants you
    to kill him. Because she knows what will happen if you do." He kept his
    eyes on Caine the whole time, feeling Tom tense up. 
    
    *** 
    
    A baby. That was the smell. A baby? He didn't remember a baby. Another
    of Lilith's tricks. He sniffed again, noticing a rather pungent new scent
    in the air. Very citrusy. Odd. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray sniffed, staring at Calhoun, then looking at Caine. "What's he talking
    about?" 
    
    The front door rang, and Dief ran to answer it with Ma. Mina had arrived
    first. She gave her acknowledgements to Ray and Turnbull and went to
    Tom's side. Turnbull followed. 
    
    She spotted Calhoun and gasped in shock and fear.  Turnbull put his hands
    on her shoulders. 
    
    "A lot has happened, Mina," Turnbull explained quickly.  "Don't fear
    the Elder.  He's sworn allegiance to Caine and to Prince Kowalski.  We
    called you here to help with this man, Tom Grissom." 
    
    "What's wrong?" she wondered, keeping a wary eye on Calhoun. 
    
    Vecchio gestured helplessly.  "He's about to become a father." 
    
    "How wonderful!  Where is the mother?" 
    
    "He is the mother," grumbled Kowalski. 
    
    "An enthos demon," whispered Turnbull. 
    
    "Oh, dear." 
    
    Ray Kowalski made a strangled noise and bolted out the front door.  Vecchio
    followed him and found the skinny detective leaning against one of the
    pillars on the front porch for support.  He was trembling. 
    
    "Stan?" he asked, hesitantly touching his arm.  He called him Stan because
    he knew now Kowalski didn't mind.  Strange that no one else was allowed
    to use the name. 
    
    "We've gotta find him soon. Real soon.  She's nuts." 
    
    "We'll get him.  Don't worry." 
    
    He held his head in despair. "I'm just...Tom...the 13th...I feel so....god,
    I feel so tired."  Abruptly he looked up and around, sniffing the air.
    "Do you smell something?" 
    
    "Grass." 
    
    "N-no.  Like oranges or lemons." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "It's so strong.  Where's it comin' from?" He sniffed again, then coughed.
    It was getting stronger. Suddenly his fingers itched. Badly. 
    
    Vecchio shook his head. "Stan, I don't smell..." He saw Ray scratching
    at his hands, and froze. "What are you doing?" 
    
    "Itches..." It was disinfectant. The smell. Someone was cleaning something...
    
    *** 
    
    ...the floor above him and using way too much disinfectant. It dripped
    through the cracks in the ceiling and onto his fingers. It itched a lot,
    and he couldn't scratch it with his arms and legs restrained as they
    were. He closed his eyes, breathing evenly. Trying to stop the itching.
    Nothing helped. It got worse. 
    
    And then it stopped. 
    
    Five minutes went by and then it began again. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun felt Tom's fingers clench his again and looked. Tom was shaking,
    a thin sheen of sweat on his face. "You're all right?" 
    
    Tom nodded quickly, then shook his head at a lance of pain. Mina and
    Turnbull had gone to the hospital to "borrow" some equipment. "No...I
    think something's wrong..." 
    
    "Wrong?  How?" 
    
    "It-it feels wrong...different from last time." 
    
    There was a storm of confusion in Calhoun's pale eyes, but nonetheless
    he pressed, "Tell me, Tom.  What happened last time?" 
    
    His voice was faint. "Hurt but...I could feel her.  She was okay.  I
    could tell.  He's not."  There was fear in his eyes, and Calhoun, familiar
    with this form of demonic reproduction, felt a wave of awe that this
    man could care so deeply for the end result of what was essentially rape.
    Such was the spirit of the man he now loved, and Calhoun loved him all
    the more for it. 
    
    So much like Marianne... 
    
    The door burst open and Kowalski was framed by the light pouring in.
    He pointed at Calhoun and snapped, "On yer feet, lover boy.  We're outta
    here." 
    
    "Wha-?  I can't!" he protested.  "Sire!"  he added belatedly, rattled.
    
    "Yeah you can," insisted the purple-haired ghoulite.  "I'm gettin' shit
    that's not mine.  It can only be those two hotline broads messin' with
    Fraser an' me.  We're gonna go take care of them right now, pal, an'
    yer comin'.  I'll make it an order if I hafta." 
    
    Calhoun looked down at Grissom, who nodded.  "It's not yet.  Go." 
    
    Caine and Ma Vecchio emerged from the kitchen at the uproar.  Loud voices
    weren't anything unusual in this house, but cursing was and Ma gave Ray
    a warning look that shut him up on the spot. 
    
    Vecchio turned as a familiar car pulled up in front of the house.  The
    land yacht from hell, Jay's white Chevy Impala, parked and the two young
    get piled out, still arguing over the directions to the house as they
    hurried up the walkway.  Soon the house was even more crowded and swift
    introductions made all around. 
    
    "Let's go," ordered Vecchio. 
    
    "Bring Diefenbaker," Caine said as the lights started flashing on and
    off.  "Werewolves have great psychological impact upon demons.  Their
    minds cannot be effected by them." 
    
    "Dief!  Let's move!" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser could feel hands on him, painful touches and caresses. Nothing
    felt this horrible. It was like being touched with claws. That and the
    itching was sure to kill him. He closed his eyes again. /Ray.../ 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray called ahead to the precinct and had a quick word with the 27th's
    armorer.  By the time the Riv pulled up to the entrance, Sgt. Silvermann
    was waiting with a duffel bag and a clip board. 
    
    "Sign here and here.  Get 'em back tomorrow.  Got it?" 
    
    "Got it, Sarge," smiled Kowalski, taking the bag.  Vecchio sped out at
    top speed. 
    
    Calhoun draped himself over the back seat.  "What's that?" 
    
    Triumphantly, Ray opened the bag and displayed two wide-barrelled hand
    guns.  They looked like oversized flare guns. 
    
    "Twinki guns.  These suckers are /old/." 
    
    "Twinki?" was the vampire's scathing reply. 
    
    Kowalski held up one of the rounds.  "What's this look like to you, Cal?"
    
    There was no arguing.  "A Twinki." 
    
    "I nailed Cecil with a newer version," said Ray, checking the guns before
    loading them.  "Only five rounds, Vecchio." 
    
    "You take three and wear your glasses," ordered Vecchio, intent on driving
    like a madman. 
    
    "You two must be cautious and not get too close to them," warned Calhoun.
    "They may be capable of making you into hosts just like Tom." 
    
    Asked Vecchio, "What about you?" 
    
    Calhoun huffed a derisive laugh.  "I'm already dead." 
    
    "Don' worry," assured Kowalski.  "I'm savin' myself for Lilith.  Can't
    this thing go any faster?" 
    
    *** 
    
    "Psychic Hotline...we know what you need." 
    
    "Hey, Beula." Calhoun's voice dripped with false sincerity. "Tom there?"
    
    Beula sighed, shaking her head at Millicent. "Him again. No, Cal. He's
    out. Called out." 
    
    "Aw, too bad. Guess I'll have to talk to you then." 
    
    "Poor baby." 
    
    "Can you guess where I am?" 
    
    "What?" 
    
    Wondered Millicent quietly, "Didn't Lilith kick that jerk out?" 
    
    Suddenly the locked door slammed open and Calhoun stepped into the room
    with a raging werewolf at his heels. 
    
    "Wrong, bitch, I quit!" 
    
    They screamed in terror at the sight of his fangs, knowing  full well
    that between him and the wolf, they could be slaughtered with ease. 
    Beula ran for the window, yanking it open only to be shot at almost point-blank
    range by Ray Kowalski where he waited on the fire escape. She staggered
    back, smeared with acid, and when she turned, Dief pounced. 
    
    Millicent leaped to her feet, an inhuman hiss escaping her as she turned
    to fight.  Calhoun smiled, unafraid as her human features faded and melded
    into something truly hideous. 
    
    Her skin turned gray and her eyes became solid yellow.  She lunged at
    the vampire, only to be slammed down in mid-leap by a shot from Vecchio's
    Twinki gun.  Millicent screamed as the corrosive liquid spattered across
    her middle and she fell on the floor, thrashing in agony. 
    
    Kowalski clambered through the window.  "Dief, back off!" he screamed,
    following Beula to the apartment's kitchen.  He aimed and fired.  The
    impact of the round slammed her head back as she started to transform
    to a winged beast.  Screaming, she ran blindly at Ray.  He snatched Dief
    up and threw himself against the wall as she staggered foreward. 
    
    "Move away!  Outside!"  ordered Calhoun.  "Give me the guns!" 
    
    They didn't argue, just tossed him the clumsy weapons and beat a hasty
    retreat out the door.  Calhoun smiled. 
    
    "Just you and me now, ladies." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ten minutes later, Calhoun emerged.  His lips were stained blue and his
    hands were dirty as he returned the emptied guns. 
    
    "I wouldn't," he advised Vecchio when the detective reached for the door.
    
    "You...?" 
    
    "I'm a Sabbat.  There's not much we can't eat." 
    
    "Can't or won't?" wondered Kowalski. 
    
    "Lets get out of here before someone calls the cops," invited Calhoun
    with a self-satisfied smile. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom looked at Caine. "There's something wrong with him, right?" His voice
    was barely a hoarse whisper as Mina examined him. "Right?" 
    
    "I'm not entirely sure," Caine soothed, then glanced up as Ma Vecchio
    entered carrying another angus drink. "I don't believe so..." 
    
    "You're lying. Please, don't.  Please..." 
    
    Suddenly he relaxed, his whole body and mind coming to rest.  He looked
    at Caine in wonder. 
    
    "They're gone.  Beula and Millicent." 
    
    Mina wiped his sweaty forehead.  "You need to rest, Tom.  It will be
    soon." 
    
    Grissom looked from her to the Eldest and the Seeker.  In a faint, exhausted
    voice, he pleaded, "Help me, Lord Caine.  Please.  Help me save this
    child.  I want him.  What's wrong with him?  You know." 
    
    "The psychic assault may have damaged him," said Caine gently, holding
    his hands.  "I find nothing amiss with his body, but...where the spirit
    should be, there is but a void.  I am sorry, Thomas." 
    
    "No.." He shook his head, feeling tears coming, feeling arms go around
    him. Who? Not Calhoun, he'd sent him to help. He wished he hadn't. "No,
    that's not...that's not fair..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray Vecchio looked across the roof of his car at Kowalski.  The detective
    was looking positively green. 
    
    "Hey, Stan, you okay?" 
    
    Kowalski shook his head, confused.  "I...dunno." 
    
    "Still got the itch?" 
    
    "N-no.  Yeah.  My stomach....I - ow!  Ah!"  He clutched his middle, doubling
    over, clutching his stomach in pain. 
    
    "Shit!"  Vecchio ran to the other side of the car where Calhoun was already
    holding Kowalski upright. 
    
    "What the hell?" 
    
    "I don't know!" 
    
    Ray was weeping and writhing in agony, his hands pushing weakly as if
    he was trying to hold someone off.  He was whispering brokenly. 
    
    "No!  NO!  Please don't!  I don't want - no!  Oh, god, no please!  Please!
    Ray!  Ray!  Please help me!" 
    
    Calhoun lowered him to the ground by the car.  Ray clung to him, curling
    around the vampire's hand as if it was a life line.  His voice babbled
    on, frightened to a near-panic. 
    
    "Oh, god, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  Ray, I'm so sorry!  I love you.  Ah!"
    
    "Benny." 
    
    "Love you...I love you...Ahhh!" 
    
    Calhoun shook his head, frustrated.  "Beula and Millicent were only attacking
    Tom.  They weren't the link here." 
    
    "What the hell is going on?" 
    
    "The same thing that happened to Tom." 
    
    *** 
    
    He opened his eyes, intent on asking her to please stop. He froze when
    he saw the thing above him was most certainly not Lilith. The ghostly,
    blackened phoenix-looking creature hovered above him, demonic hands fisted
    inside /his/ stomach. He could barely breathe. "No..." It /hurt/. It
    hurt a lot. It was like being beaten from the inside.  Fraser felt a
    paper-dry tongue lick his face, felt rock-solid weight on his loins as
    the demon straddled him.  And still those hands /in/ his stomach, it
    seemed, twisting pleasure to pain and joy to despair. 
    
    "Your knight slew my brother," panted the demon.  It's breath was rank.
    Fraser didn't even try to consider the motions it was making against
    his immobile body.  His thoughts screamed out in fear, for Ray, for help.
    
    "Slew him and left him with only some weak-willed slut to carry his seed."
    
    Tom? 
    
    "Such a disappointment to my lineage.  Don't worry.  I wouldn't let on
    as lowly as a Slayer have the honor of claiming allegiance to the House
    of Noor.  We are pure.  Until this day, my line was untainted.  After
    today, none will ever know Cecil had an offspring."  He raked his talons
    down Fraser's chest, enjoying the tiny rivulets of blood that followed.
    "And now your knight will know all that has been done to-" 
    
    The door opened.  Fraser felt the weight on him shift.  Red eyes widened
    in alarm. 
    
    "M-my lady!  My Queen!  You return before the hour - " 
    
    "Virgil," stated Lilith with deadly calm. 
    
    He pulled back away from Fraser.  The Mountie could not suppress a gasp
    as the veil of pain was lifted. 
    
    "Clearly it's a good thing I returned early," purred the vampire.  "You
    might have injured yourself or my prize with such mischief, Virgil. 
    One might think there is more to this than mere play." She smiled, moving
    towards him. 
    
    He groveled at her feet.  "Harm was not my intent, my Queen." 
    
    "Of course not.  Nor is it mine." 
    
    The demon looked up. "N-no..." 
    
    "Close your eyes, Benton. Windows to the soul and all." 
    
    He heard the shot ring out through blackened vision.  Hot, wet warmth
    splattered across his cheek and a keening wail of a dying beast filled
    the air. 
    
    *** 
    
    He came to in the back seat of the Riv, barely able to keep his eyes
    open. His head rested on Calhoun's leg, and he sighed. "He's ok...I think
    he's ok..." 
    
    "It didn't sound like it..." Vecchio stated, turning left. "It sounded
    bad." 
    
    "It felt bad. But he's ok..." Ray sighed, closing his eyes. He didn't
    care /who/ he was laying on. He was so tired. He curled up, bringing
    his knees to his chest. He felt eyes on him as he fell asleep. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom suddenly sat up, a sharp pain in his stomach. He could feel something
    coming loose and squeezed his eyes shut. "God....oh...God..." He dug
    his fingers into the bed spread, staring at the wall. Vecchio's mother
    was at his side in an instant, helping him drink. "Hush...you need your
    strength..." She looked to Lucia. "Get Aja, Mina and Renfield. Hurry."
    
    "...hurts..." 
    
    "Hush. I know. It will be all right..." She soothed, stroking his hair
    back. She'd taken to him like a duck to water. "Everything's fine." 
    
    "James..." 
    
    "Is on his way, I'm sure.." 
    
    Another lance of pain. He clutched at the cloth of the sheets, biting
    back screams and moans. He shook, breathing hard through his nose. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser felt cold. She was watching him, gauging his reactions to the
    attack. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. No, he'd react when he
    was with Ray. 
    
    /Ray....help me.../ 
    
    /Keep your eyes closed, Benton.  Don't react to me.  She had to pick
    that face, didn't she?/ 
    
    /Dad.../ 
    
    /The Yank is trying to find you.  Do you trust him completely?/ 
    
    What a question. 
    
    /Trust him on this one, Benton.  No matter how insane it might sound,
    just trust him./ 
    
    *** 
    
    Kowalski was sprawled across Calhoun by the time they returned to the
    Vecchio household.  He had returned the Twinki guns - no questions asked,
    thank you Sgt. Silvermann - and when they pulled up to the house he saw
    that Frannie's car was also in the driveway.  Luckily Tony and Maria
    and their kids were visiting friends in Michigan for the week.  The house
    was crowded enough. 
    
    Dief jumped out the window before the Riv was at a stop and ran to the
    door.  He still hadn't figured out door knobs. 
    
    "Prince Kowalski?  Wake up.  Wake up!" 
    
    Vecchio had to smile at Calhoun's dilemma.  He didn't want to admit it,
    but he was impressed by the Elder's performance.  Take him away from
    Lilith and he was downright likable. 
    
    "Stan!  Get outta Cal's lap, will you?" 
    
    Kowalski roused with a snort.  "Wha'sup?" 
    
    "Home.  Time to figure out plan 'B'." 
    
    "Prince Kowalski, before I dump you on the floor, get up," invited Calhoun
    impatiently.  They all looked up as the door opened and Frannie rushed
    out onto the porch. 
    
    "Ray!  Do you have James with you?  Tom wants him!" 
    
    Calhoun was out of the car and rushing past Francesca before Ray hit
    the floor.  He clawed his way out and let Vecchio haul him to his feet.
    
    "You gonna be that bad when you and Stella have kids?" asked Ray, trying
    to wake up. 
    
    Vecchio stared at him, dumbfounded.  Kids?  What if Stella...what if...ouch.
    He shuddered. 
    
    "No.  No.  No kids.  Yet.  Ugh." 
    
    They both looked up as an almost ear piercing scream filled the night.
    They both winced. "I think I might stay out here," Ray said. Vecchio
    nodded in agreement. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom clenched his fingers rhythmically around Calhoun's hand, breathing
    hard and fighting the pain in him. "Ohhh God...is it coming?" he asked
    Mina, rubbing at the layer of sweat on his face. "Is it?" 
    
    "It's ready...lie back." Together Caine and Turnbull got Tom onto his
    back, and Mina felt his stomach, gently. "Sacs are full. It should be
    any minute now." 
    
    "What's gonna ha..." He was struck by a sudden burst of unbelievable
    agony. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream. All he could do was feel
    this shocking, claw like anguish in his stomach. 
    
    He found himself doubled over, gasping. Calhoun was holding him, trying
    to ebb some of the pain away. And then it was there again. Too much.
    It was too much. 
    
    He screamed again, digging his nails into his palms. Drew blood. 
    
    "Call Madam Kowalski," he heard someone whisper before the clawing pain
    took him again. 
    
    *** 
    
    They were huddled on the front steps, hoping none of the neighbors called
    the cops, when they heard a window being opened upstairs and Frannie's
    voice rang out. 
    
    "Hey!  Bro!" 
    
    "What?" both Rays yelled together in the same aggravated tone of voice.
    
    "Get Stella on the phone!  We need advice!" 
    
    "You call 'er," grumbled Kowalski, wishing they had gone after Fraser
    sooner.  Damn Grissom.  Damn Calhoun.  Damn demons.  He listened in on
    Vecchio's conversation. 
    
    "...Stell?  Irene.  Hi.  Yeah.  We need some input.  Stella?  Hi, honey.
    We need your help.  No, nothing like that.  We have a guy here about
    to give birth to a...a...Hey, Stan, what was Cecil?" 
    
    "Enthos demon." 
    
    "Enthos demon.  Yeah. A man.  Caine, Mina, and Turnbull.  And Ma.  Yeah.
    Okay."  He looked at Kowalski.  "Upstairs." 
    
    "I don't do childbirth stuff, Vecchio." 
    
    "You do now.  Come on." 
    
    With a sigh Ray followed Vecchio upstairs.  "Here's Mina."  He handed
    over the phone to the intern and looked on the strange scene.  It was
    beyond describing. 
    
    "Who can do a drawing spell here?" Mina suddenly called out, fully expecting
    a host of volunteers. 
    
    Silence.  Finally Calhoun said in a nervous voice, "I can." 
    
    Turnbull made a brave face.  "I can, but I've never done it on anything
    living." 
    
    Caine smiled knowingly.  "I will help you, Elder Calhoun and Son of Rachel."
    
    There was gratitude in the vampire's eyes.  "Thank you, my lord." 
    
    *** 
    
    He felt his stomach clenching and wanted to get this over with. It hurt
    so much. He felt arms wrap around him, rubbing his back. His stomach.
    He groaned. 
    
    *** 
    
    An hour later, the household was quiet, all it's occupants exhausted
    save one and that one was busy learning how to turn on a faucet.  Caine
    and Ma Vecchio were in the kitchen with the two younger McGets, busy
    making more pureed beef for Grissom while Jay instructed Dief.  The two
    Rays, Turnbull, Mina and Frannie were scattered through the living room,
    all of them on the verge of sleep.  Upstairs, in one of the guest rooms,
    James Calhoun sat on the bed next to Tom Grissom, protectively hovering
    and ready to fetch the least thing Tom might want.  The weary and sore
    Grissom lay still, too worn out to be sad at the sight of the perfect
    little baby that lay warm and asleep under his loving hand.  The perfect
    little baby that had been robbed of its mind and spirit by his own kind.
    
    A tear slid down his cheek at the pathetic hopelessness of it.  He felt
    James' cool hand  touch him and it was comforting, but it was heartbreaking
    for him to know this child had no future and no chance. 
    
    Calhoun stroked Tom's hair back, listening to the quiet sobbing. He had
    no idea what to do. The salinic sacs in Tom's body weren't closing like
    they should and he was sure that was a bad thing.  He pressed his lips
    to the back of Tom's neck, and looked up when Mina entered with Caine.
    
    She examined him, quickly noting the intake of breath when she got to
    his stomach. "We need to get him to the hospital," she whispered. "Both
    of them." 
    
    *** 
    
    They piled into the GTO and the Riv, driving as fast as they dared. Calhoun
    held Tom and the baby close, afraid to let them go. He didn't notice
    the Bahari crowds until the car began to slow.  "What's going on?" 
    
    "What the hell...." Ray looked out the windows. The Bahari were guiding
    the cars, not letting them turn in any direction other than the ones
    they wanted.  The GTO swerved to avoid striking them. 
    
    "Lilith..." Caine whispered, looking down. "She's ready for us..." He
    gave the baby a backwards glance and sighed. 
    
    "I'm gonna fuckin' run the bastards down-" 
    
    "No," said Caine to his childe, touching his arm.  "They would destroy
    this vehicle and perhaps injure Thomas and the child." 
    
    Ray glared.  "What, Aja, so we let them herd us to her?" 
    
    "Yes.  For the safety of this man and the child, let them.  Besides,
    your soul will be wherever she is." 
    
    *** 
    
    "What the hell is he doing?  This isn't the way to the hospital." 
    
    "Bahari!" hissed the Seeker. 
    
    "Ba-who?" 
    
    "Lilith's clan.  She's here." 
    
    Mina pulled Dief close to her, frightened. 
    
    "Follow them.  They seem to be after the others." 
    
    "Great, Turnbull.  Just great." 
    
    *** 
    
    Lilith tightened Fraser's bonds in the chair, having one of her 
    minions help her position it just right on the dance floor. He was pale
    and shivering from more than prolonged exposure to the cold dampness
    of the basement of the school.  Come morning the St. Fortunata's School
    for Teenage Wicca would either get a nasty surprise, or a very nasty
    surprise. It all depended on Ray Kowalski. 
    
    /Stay calm, son. The Yank's coming. He'll know what to do. Trust him.
    However bad it looks, it's the right thing.../ 
    
    /What are you saying?/ 
    
    /I'm saying you have to listen to the Yank.  For once he knows more than
    you do./ 
    
    /What is he going to do, Dad?/ 
    
    /Hopefully, the right thing./ 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun leaned foreward to look over Ray's shoulder.  "She must be holed
    up in there.  A Wiccan school?" 
    
    "I got a fond memory of this dump," muttered Ray. 
    
    The vampire frowned as Ray came to a halt.  A female vampire was walking
    towards the car, as arrogant as a queen.  She stood before them and smirked.
    
    "Elder Calhoun of the Sabbat," she greeted cooly. 
    
    "Know 'er?" hissed Ray. 
    
    "Used to be my number two," he muttered back.  Aloud he said, "Josie.
    Did my chair even get cold?" 
    
    Her face fell.  All civilities went by the wayside.  "Out of the cars.
    Now.  All of you." 
    
    Ray glanced over.  Vecchio was looking back, having pulled the Riviera
    up a few feet away. 
    
    "Better do it," muttered Calhoun.  "She's ruthless with a chip on her
    shoulder big enough to see.  Ignore anything they do to me, Kowalski,
    just keep Tom safe." 
    
    "Uh, Fraser, Cal, Fraser," reminded Ray. 
    
    "Don't forget what the Queen's own lawn jockey said." 
    
    "Bastard." 
    
    "Get out.  Move." Josie glared at Calhoun. The betrayer. "You. Bring
    the psychic. She's going to take care of him personally."  She cast a
    look at the occupants of the Riviera.  "Keep them here until I return."
    
    *** 
    
    They followed her in, Calhoun carrying Tom, Caine carrying the baby.
    Ray was in the lead. He froze when he saw Fraser tied to the chair, looking
    as bad as he had last month, looking bloodless and lost. 
    
    "Dammit..." He glared at Lilith. "What is it you want from me?" 
    
    "You know what I want."  Lilith smiled, then nodded to Caine. "Kill him.
    Destroy my enemy." 
    
    Josie took the baby from Caine, and Tom let out a scream, trying to lunge
    out of Calhoun's hold.  Josie settled the infant on Fraser's lap. The
    Slayer looked down at the little bundle of life, sure that Ray wouldn't
    do what Lilith demanded. That Ray couldn't do it. There was something
    wrong with this child. It looked...empty. Was this the seed that Virgil
    spoke of?  Except for a gray tint to his skin, he looked like a normal
    human child with fine black hair and peaceful features. 
    
    Ray looked to Caine, unsure of what to do. Suddenly he was aware of how
    much this man had come to mean to him  "Aja..." 
    
    Impatient, Lilith seized Fraser by his hair any yanked his head back.
    "I'll kill him, Kowalski, and that will just be the start." 
    
    "It's all right, my childe.  Your soul is more important than I." Caine
    looked to the baby, and then to Ray. "Everything will be fine. Do as
    she says.  She is mother of us all and even I am her subject." 
    
    Ray looked to the baby, suddenly understanding as he remembered Irene.
    He nodded, slowly and caught the vicious-looking stake that Lilith tossed
    him.  Trembling despite his hopes, Ray looked tearfully at the vampire.
    He bowed his head as Caine placed his hands on Ray's shoulders. 
    
    "Do so with my blessings, son of my heart." 
    
    An abrupt motion.  Ray thrust foreward with all his strength. 
    
    Fraser looked up as he heard Calhoun's shout. "No!"  He felt the baby
    come to life on his knee. Squirming and crying in a lusty voice. Almost
    instantaneous with Caine's death... He looked down again and he recognised
    the light in those dark eyes. 
    
    /Say nothing, son....do nothing./ 
    
    He didn't dare look up to find his father. 
    
    Ray lowered Caine's body to the floor.  So ancient was this form that
    already it was turning to dust.  Ray bit back his tears, listening to
    the baby that was so suddenly filled with life.  Then he raised his head
    to glare at Lilith. 
    
    "Let him go." 
    
    She laughed, elated at this victory.  "Josie!  Release the Slayer!" 
    
    The moment his arms were free, Fraser steadied the infant in his lap
    with clumsy and numb hands, cradling the fragile creature tenderly. 
    Dazed with pain, he looked for Tom, afraid of what he might betray if
    he looked at Ray.  Grissom was being forcibly restrained by Calhoun.
    He was desperate and confused that his son should be crying now and he
    strained against the Sabbat's hold despite the pain he caused himself.
    
    "Let me go...James, please..." Any other day, he could have gotten loose
    easily. Any other day but today. Never today. 
    
    "No." Calhoun touched his lips to the top of Tom's head. "I won't lose
    you too..." 
    
    Ray moved to Fraser's side, supporting the Mountie with one arm around
    his waist.  Still not daring to look too hard at his lover, Fraser tried
    instead to shush the baby. He felt Ray's arms go all the way around him,
    and settled back into the embrace. 
    
    Lilith smirked at so domestic a scene, then turned her eye on her former
    lieutenant. 
    
    "Calhoun..." 
    
    "Lilith." 
    
    Tom stopped struggling, a rabbit before a snake. 
    
    "I'll let you come back, you know.  I'll give you another chance." 
    
    "Right," he snorted. 
    
    She went on expansively.  "All you have to do is kill your little whore
    here.  Just kill him.  You don't have to drink, just snap his neck. 
    If you're so fond of sluts with open minds we'll find you another, but
    this one I want dead." 
    
    Tom stiffened in Calhoun's hold, horrified.  Calhoun smiled.  Evil was
    not the word. 
    
    "/You/ call this man a whore?  And who are you, Queen of Hell, to give
    such titles? You who warmed the bed of the Wyrm and poisoned your offspring
    with your own milk?  Seducer of Eve, beloved of Satan! You would find
    me a replacement?  There is not another being on this planet that can
    rival this man, Caanite Autarkis!" 
    
    "Oh, shit," whispered Ray. 
    
    Lilith's head snapped towards the window as they heard the sounds of
    fights breaking out. Screams. Calhoun grinned, his grip on Tom loosening.
    "I called the Sabbat, Lilith. Bitch. Three clans against one. I have
    the Slayers and the Knights on my side. What are the odds the Bahari
    will last?" 
    
    "You bastard..." 
    
    Calhoun smiled at being called the same thing twice in a day. 
    
    Ray could barely contain his elation. They could trust him. Anyone who
    could do this to Lilith, they could trust. 
    
    "You've lost..." 
    
    She shook her head.  From the folds of her gown her hand lifted holding
    a distinctly-formed gun.  She aimed the Twinki gun at the child in Fraser's
    arms. "No. You have. Call them off." 
    
    Calhoun paled, if he could any more. He felt Tom stiffen in his arms.
    Kowalski's mouth dropped open and he darted between Fraser and the gun.
    That much acid...he'd be burned at best.  Dead at worst.  Fraser took
    a step back, ready to defend the infant to the end. 
    
    Calhoun /felt/ the growl come deep in Tom's throat. "Oh God..." This
    was why the sacs hadn't closed. Tom, or his body, had known that something
    would threaten the child.  He knew demons were like that, he'd never
    expected a human hybrid to have the same reaction. 
    
    He stumbled back as Tom thrust out of his grip, snarling almost ferally.
    He leapt towards her, growling. Attacking with bare teeth and hands.
    
    Calhoun regained his composure, shouting to Ray. "Get them out of here!"
    
    They didn't stop to question him. 
    
    Lilith gave a shout of fury. 
    
    And fired. 
    
    "Nooooo!" 
    
    Ray shoved Fraser away as hard as he could.  He felt rather than saw
    the Mountie twist to the side, heard a scream as Fraser's left shoulder
    was clipped.  They were almost at the doors.  ray tried to back pedal
    as the acid round slammed into the wall in front of them, sending acid
    flying.  He felt drops burning his hands, through his shoes and jeans.
    Both of them went down, Fraser rolling to protect the infant despite
    his bleeding shoulder. 
    
    "Fraser!  Fraser!  You okay?  Come on!" Ray screamed, rubbing his burns
    hard. 
    
    His feet and lungs were burning as he yanked the Slayer upright and propelled
    him out the door. 
    
    "Outside?" gasped Fraser. 
    
    "Not the healthiest place I know," muttered Kowalski. 
    
    *** 
    
    "I think I've seen about enough," stated Ray Vecchio. 
    
    Turnbull had his trusty water gun on his lap, ready.  "Somehow I don't
    think this Josie is going to be sending for us, Detective Vecchio." 
    
    "Really?  Was it the fact that it's almost dawn, or the fact that all
    hell is breaking loose just past the hood of my car?" 
    
    Turnbull shrugged.  "Both?" 
    
    "Tactical retreat would probably be the smartest thing we could do, but
    I don't want to leave those guys behind.  We could always add our two
    cents..." 
    
    "The Sabbat /are/ rather distinct." 
    
    Vecchio addressed the werewolf directly.  "Dief, whatever you do, don't
    get bit.  Okay?" 
    
    Diefenbaker growled. 
    
    "On three?" asked the American, grabbing the door handle. 
    
    Imitating the motion, the Seeker smiled.  "Three!" 
    
    Then they bolted out of the car and joined the fight. 
    
    *** 
    
    As the others ran with the infant, Calhoun watched in horror as the frail-looking
    human that had come to mean the world to him somehow managed to get the
    best of the vampire queen. Clawed finger nails dug into her face, and
    he growled again, biting deep into her neck. He was feral, like a rabid
    animal. 
    
    He'd learned well from those he'd slain. 
    
    She managed to pull him off of her, aiming the gun at him. Her hand went
    to her bleeding neck. "Son of a bitch....whore..." She kicked at him,
    brutally. Tom hit the ground and did not rise.  Calhoun took a step towards
    her, growling. He knew he was no match for Lilith, but he would not stand
    by and let Tom fight alone.  She gave him a look, firing the acid gun
    at him. He managed to duck in time, only to find himself squared off
    by his replacement as Gangrel Elder. 
    
    "Hey, Josie!" he called, distracting her.  She was so young.  This would
    lead his clan?  The clan he'd built so carefully?  Not while he had any
    say in it! 
    
    Lilith aimed again. 
    
    "Catch!" 
    
    He threw her into the line of fire. 
    
    The Twinki round caught her full in the back.  Josie screamed, falling
    to the floor.  Within a minute, the acid had burned her beyond recognition
    or recovery. 
    
    *** 
    
    The Lasombra fought with ease, the Tzimice with some difficulty. The
    Gangrel Antitribu were brutal. Almost animal like. Vecchio shivered.
    He hoped the McGet never ended up like that.  Outside the Riviera, he
    stood close to Turnbull as they helped the Sabbat wipe out the dwindling
    number of Bahari. 
    
    "Behind you!" cried Mina. 
    
    Turnbull whirled, firing.  The holy water caught the Bahari and burned
    her eyes.  Dief pounced, all claws and teeth and brute strength. 
    
    "We've got to get in there, Turnb-" 
    
    The front doors of the school slammed open and Ray and Fraser came out
    at a dead run.  They ran straight for the GTO, and it took a moment for
    Vecchio to realize they had the baby, but not Calhoun or Tom.  Or Caine.
    
    "Mina, drive!" ordered Ray, broaching no argument.  "Take Dief!" 
    
    "Where's Caine? And the others?" Turnbull demanded, taking the baby from
    Fraser. He didn't like the look on Fraser's face. The baby squirmed in
    his hands, and he looked down. What was going on? Just 30 minutes prior,
    this child had been a lifeless shell..."Oh my God..." he breathed, realising
    what must have happened. 
    
    "Get the baby to safety," Fraser whispered, gently and went back to Ray's
    side. 
    
    "They're still in there, Frayze." Ray shoved the Seeker into the GTO's
    front seat, grabbing Turnbull's water pistol in the process. 
    
    "Move it, Mina!  Get to someplace safe.  We'll catch up later.  Go!"
    
    The car left rubber in the parking lot as she maneuvered around the few
    remaining clumps of combatants.  It was like a battlefield in the school's
    parking lot and it wasn't over yet. 
    
    "Look!" ordered Vecchio, pointing.  A few of the Bahari had broken off
    and were running back into the school. 
    
    "Shit!" excalimed Ray Kowalski.  "How're ya on ammo?" 
    
    "Down to one mag." 
    
    "Here." Ray handed him another magazine then set off at a run back to
    the school.  Fraser followed behind and Vecchio took up the rear, noting
    the blood darkening the Mounted Slayer's red tunic. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Whore," Lilith snarled, standing over Tom, aiming the Twinki gun at
    him again. Blood dripped from his lips. Her blood. He favored his aching
    side, staring up at her. He hurt all over, the birthing 
    process had not been kind to him. "Slut." She kicked him, hard, and enjoyed
    both his cry of pain and Calhoun's of rage. She looked to the Bahari
    that held him restrained. 
    
    "He looks like your wife, Jimmy," She sneered. "Does he know what happened
    to her? To your child?" 
    
    "Bitch!" 
    
    "Does he know how you ripped them apart?  Drank their blood?" 
    
    "Caanite Autarkis! Fuck you!" Calhoun strained against the Bahari, trying
    to get to Tom. 
    
    "You protected him. Didn't you? That's why he didn't get the vision with
    the others? Why he didn't die." She aimed the gun an inch away from Tom's
    leg, and fired. The pellet exploded on the floor, a spray of the acid
    getting on Tom's leg. He screamed.  The energy and rage that had posessed
    him when his son was threatened had evaporated and he was nothing but
    a simple man facing an evil as old as time. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray looked at the others, worried. "What do we do?" 
    
    Vecchio sounded heartily concerned. "I thought you had a plan." 
    
    "It didn't involve killing Caine." Ray snapped. "Fuck!" He kicked a locker,
    leaning against it. They were losing time, and he had no /idea/ what
    to do. 
    
    "Calm down, Ray...." Fraser stood next to him. "We'll just...we'll play
    it by ear." 
    
    "You? Right..." 
    
    *** 
    Calhoun struggled in the Bahari's strong grip, trying to free himself
    and get to Tom. Lilith kept kicking at him, shooting at him. He let out
    a choked sob when Tom's eyes suddenly closed and the psychic went limp,
    ugly acid burns showing on his exposed skin. 
    
    She stared down at him, a half grin on her face. "See, Jimmy? That's
    how you take care of a problem." She knelt down, feeling for his pulse.
    Weak, thready. He was mumbling something under his breath, quickly. It
    sounded like, "Help me." He kept mumbling it, over and over and over.
    
    She frowned. "No one's gonna help you, whore." She poke the gun against
    his head. 
    
    "No. Don't...." 
    
    She glanced up at Calhoun. "What will you give me if I don't?" 
    
    "Please, don't.  I will give you anything." 
    
    "You'll swear fidelity to me?" 
    
    Tom rolled onto his back as she went towards Calhoun and the Bahari.
    He could feel them now, the fifteen psychics who had died in the attack
    on the 13th precinct last friday.  Good people.  Caring.  People who
    had gladly made the sacrifices society had expected of them as police
    officers and psychics, only to be paid back by the likes of demons and
    vampire queens. Their collective energy rested around the Earth, waiting
    to be needed. 
    
    And he needed. God did he need. 
    
    Their voices in his head.  Is this what it was like for Kowalski? 
    
    /Help me, please./ 
    
    He could hear James' voice.  /No, James, don't give in.  Not for me.
    Not to her.  You've served in Hell long enough./ 
    
    The voices babbled on, all of them understanding, all of them angered
    at their own lives being wasted. 
    
    //Tell us what to do.  We're yours.  Here we are.  Feel us.// 
    
    He opened his eyes, letting their energy flow through him. Her blood
    on him, in him acting as a catalyst. Allowing him to harness their combined
    strength without dying. 
    
    /James...don't./ 
    
    Stammered Calhoun, "No. I can't..." 
    
    /Good...thank God.../ 
    
    Calhoun glared as Lilith came foreward, seizing him by the hair.  He
    could see her fangs and knew she would drain him dry.  Worse even than
    Amaranth.  The Sabbat had undergone so many changes of late, his existance
    had been one uncertainty after another, one form of pain constantly replaced
    by another, each servitude crueler than the last until he had placed
    his trust in a purple-haired Caanite Elder.  He had not known such peace
    in over a century, had never been welcomed to belong with people who
    did not care what he was or try to exploit him or expect him to dominate.
    He didn't want to.  Not now. Not since Tom.  There was the answer to
    every question.  That gentle, troubled soul so like Marianne it would
    have been frightening to a person of lesser passion.  No.  He embraced
    the similarities.  Loved Tom all the more for it.  Loved him as he had
    not loved another person in all these long years.  Loved him enough not
    to bend under her will again if that was what Tom wanted. 
    
    "Can't?" mocked the queen.  "Can't?" 
    
    Calhoun met her eye.  "Alright.  Try won't, bitch!"  He spat in her face.
    
    Her expression darkened yet more.  "Bastard!  You dare!" 
    
    She lunged, seizing him in an iron grip, planting her fangs into his
    exposed throat.  Calhoun let out a scream of agony.  He couldn't even
    poison her any more with his Sabbat blood.  She was immune now. 
    
    Suddenly Tom sat up with a snarl, his hands out, arms at full length,
    eyes glowing with unnatural fury. His palms were pointed outward, his
    chest was heaving.  Lilith looked up at this unexpected motion, eyes
    glittering with ire at the interruption.  She yanked away from the Sabbat's
    throat. 
    
    "What are you doing?" 
    
    "Screw. You." he said with trembling voice, and let loose. 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray looked towards Vecchio as they walked, following Fraser. Blood dripped
    from Fraser's shoulder heavily. "He's pretty bad, ain't he?" 
    
    "I think so..." 
    
    "Damnit, shoulda kept Turnbull if we wanted a big guy in a hat.  Shit."
    
    Suddenly the lighs burst. 
    
    "Gym," said Ray, drawing his gun.  "Fraser, let us handle this.  You're
    hurt." 
    
    "Ray, you're not exactly the picture of health," was the even reply.
    
    "I'm still pretty, at least," he muttered back.  They were at the gymnasium
    doors.  The two Rays ventured cautious glances inside to the hideous
    scene unfolding before them.  Grissom was down and looked like he was
    going to stay that way, Calhoun was in the unenviable position of having
    Lilith's hand in his hair as she spoke at him.  Clearly she didn't like
    his answer, because suddenly she planted her teeth into his neck.  Ray
    shuddered, remembering, and they all jumped at the howl of pain that
    wrent the air. 
    
    Fraser paled, remembering all that had happened to him, imagining everything
    that would happen to Calhoun and to Tom if they should fail. 
    
    "Oh, god," breathed Vecchio.  "Oh. God." 
    
    They were too distracted to react when Tom suddenly sat up, looking all
    the world possessed. His eyes were....glowing, Ray realised. The light
    emmanating from them scared him. 
    
    "Screw you," Tom repeated a second time as he let loose with a psi blast
    so devastating it knocked Lilith across the room. He lept to his feet,
    not caring as his burns cried out for attention. He was on her in a minute,
    screaming in her ears, letting the combined powers of those psychics
    and himself as well flow through her like so many knives. 
    
    "Mine..." He hissed in her ear. "My /baby/, my /friends/, my /James/.
    No. You...your turn." He let another volt go through her and felt her
    screams. 
    
    Calhoun stared through hazed vision, suddenly very afraid of what was
    happening to Tom. What he'd done..."Tom..." He felt the Bahari hands
    slip away as they doubled over, feeling their Queen's agony. 
    
    "Mine....you...go to....hell..." Tom hissed, feeling the pressure in
    his head,trembling in pain. He was slipping. He could feel it. Slipping
    hard, and failing fast. Things were coming loose in him, and if he didn't
    hurry, if he didn't let go...."Mine....they..." 
    
    He felt Lilith's fingers digging into his shoulder and winced at the
    pain. He felt Lilith's fingers digging into his shoulder and winced at
    the pain, but the echos of James' scream, the agonized screams that had
    torn through the 13th, his own anguish at the hands of the empath demons
    drove him to Ignore her touch and lash out with his mind.  He could feel
    the twisted mazes in her mind.  She was insane beyond reconing. 
    
    The doors slammed open and the two Chicago police detectives burst into
    the gym.  Shots rang out and more screams filled the room as they eleminated
    the vampires with the same mercy that would have been shown them. 
    
    "Get Calhoun!" shouted Kowalski. 
    
    Vecchio hauled Calhoun upright.  The Sabbat was unsteady and weakened
    and he leaned heavily on the Italian's arm. 
    
    "Tom," he gasped, looking over at the conflict taking place a few yards
    away.  Vecchio hauled him back and away.  "No!  Let me-" 
    
    "You heard your boss' orders, Jimmy," grumbled Vecchio, thanking god
    he wasn't in a suit today.  "Come on." 
    
    Kowalski edged foreward to where Lilith and Grissom were locked in battle.
    It looked as if Lilith was getting the stuffing kicked out of her psychically.
    Ray didn't know how, but Tom was doing a number on her.  All you had
    to do was get the guy good and pissed, apparently.... 
    
    But he couldn't last.  Not for much longer.  Psychicly, he may be Superman,
    physically he was scrawny Tom Grissom that had just popped out a demon
    baby and spent the past four years living in hell.  She lashed out blindly
    and the blow almost floored him.  This had to end.  It would end.  Here.
    Now. 
    
    He aimed his gun. 
    
    Standing by the door, Fraser's eyes grew wide as he realized what Ray
    was about to do.  He felt a wretched twist in his stomach at the thought
    of his mother, Carolyn, murdered.  Shot.  He closed his eyes.  /Trust
    him.../ 
    
    A shot rang out. 
    
    Calhoun whirled with a strangled cry.  "Tom!" 
    
    Kowalski was panting, lowering the gun.  A single bullet through the
    temple and Lilith slumped to the floor in a heap of flesh that had been
    lifeless for centuries.  Tom fell backwards, stunned, still filled with
    the energy of the dead. 
    
    "Oh, my god," whispered Vecchio, his hold on Calhoun loosening.  the
    vampire yanked away and he ran to Tom's side. 
    
    Ray swallowed, suddenly aware that Fraser was standing beside him.  He
    looked, knowing this would be painful for his Mountie even if it was
    Lilith.  "Frase...don't look.  Don't - " 
    
    "It's all right, Ray," he said softly.  Loss of blood and exhaustion
    combined to make him feel light-headed and defenseless.  He fell to one
    knee beside the body, feeling Ray's gentle touch on his uninjured shoulder.
    Could it be over?  Was she destroyed so easily?  The features were not
    as beautiful as he remembered, fading with each passing moment until,
    like Caine before her, the Queen had turned to dust.  Fraser swallowed,
    feeling...something.  Some emotion for which he had no name.  Welling
    into his heart and mind.  What? 
    
    He couldn't move, couldn't speak.  Something was suffocating him.  Something
    was twisting inside his very soul.  It had him.  Owned him.  He was thrust
    aside, prisoner in his own mind and body. 
    
    /Oh, my god!  Ray!  Help!  Help me!  What the hell is happening to me?
    Ray!/ 
    
    Then a voice.  He knew it all too well. 
    
    /Hello, Benton./ 
    
    He slumped forwards as the weight of her mind in his drove him unconscious.
    He felt Ray's arms go around him, and for once it didn't make him feel
    safe. Instead he felt cold. And frightened.  And isolated from all that
    he loved. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun touched Tom's face gently as the paramedics loaded him into the
    ambulance. The psychic stared at the ceiling of the bus, wide eyed and
    confused. "James? James...." 
    
    "I'm here. I'm right here.." 
    
    "Too many...there's too..." Tom was babbling. He winced as a needle pricked
    his elbow. Fingers traced the scars on his wrist. "Baby...the baby?"
    
    "Safe. Rest." He brushed Tom's hair back. He had no idea what had happened
    back there, but he was for damned sure gonna find out. 
    "Mina brought him to the hospital. He'll be there when we get 
    there." 
    
    "Crying." 
    
    "Yes. He was." 
    
    "How? Why?" 
    
    "I don't know..." But he'd find out. Turnbull knew. He was sure of that.
    He'd drag it out of him if it killed both of them. For Tom. Everything
    and anything for Tom.  He glanced back at the two detectives waiting
    by the Riviera, talking to the assembled police and warders.  The Sabbat
    had vanished with the dawn, leaving carnage in their wake.  Calhoun smiled
    to himself as the doors to the ambulance closed and they pulled away.
    Subtle they were not.  No matter.  The Mother was gone and they had not
    all perished.  They could face the consequences of Prince Kowalski's
    actions later. 
    
    *** 
    
    "...listen, pal, my best friend and partner was just hauled off to the
    hospital.  Ya can either wait until I report for duty to talk to me,
    or ya can meet me at Cook County and talk there.  Yer choice.  'Bye."
    Kowalski strode away from the Warder in charge of the investigation and
    headed for Vecchio.  The ambulance with Fraser had already left and the
    paperwork nightmare was about to commence. 
    
    "Ready?" asked Vecchio needlessly, extracting himself from a rookie and
    a sergeant from the 19th.  "Let's go." 
    
    "Think she's dead?" wondered Kowalski after a few minutes of silent riding
    in the Riv. 
    
    "I hope.  There wasn't too much left of her.  Where could she have gone?"
    
    "I dunno.  Tom's still loopy.  Maybe he'll know when he gets back down
    to earth." 
    
    "What's the deal with the baby?  And where's Caine?" 
    
    Ray slumped in his seat, letting himself relax.  "The baby /is/ Caine."
    
    Vecchio blinked.  He needed a drink. 
    
    *** 
    
    Warfield was waiting for them at the doors. "Where is the child, my Prince?"
    He demanded, pulling the dark, flannel cape around him tighter. He didn't
    need to be bursting into flames any time soon. As it was he was smoking.
    Zuko, safe from the sun as a daywalker rolled his eyes. 
    
    "Wow. Word travels quick." Ray was quiet for a moment. "He's Probably
    up in the nursery. Go see him yerself." 
    
    "They won't allow it without the parent's permission." 
    
    "Well, that ain't me, so..." He held up his hands, pushing past the two
    vampires. "Vecchio? Can you take them to Tom? I'm gonna check on Fraser."
    
    Vecchio sighed, annoyed. "Fine. Sure." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun looked up as Warfield and Zuko entered the hospital room, fangs
    bared. The EEG Tom was hooked up to was beeping triple time. No one was
    sure what that meant. The baby lay on Tom's chest, it's fingers curled
    into the hospital gown. Tom held it, instinctively in his sleep. 
    
    "Autarkis..." Warfield hissed, angerly. 
    
    "Easy there, big fella." Vecchio rolled his eyes again. "Caine and Stan
    both cleared him. He works for us now. He brought the Sabbat down on
    The Bahari." 
    
    "And Lilith?" 
    
    "Dead. Stan and psychic boy here." 
    
    Zuko made a skeptical face.  "You sure about that?" 
    
    "Of course we're sure. He put a bullet in her brain." 
    
    Warfield was looking at Tom and the tiny bundle he held.  "Oh, my lord,"
    breathed the prince, somehow making the words sound like an oath and
    a title at once. 
    
    Calhoun smiled, enjoying the situation.  Life would never be dull again.
    He could tell. 
    
    *** 
    
    Welsh met Ray by the nurses' station outside of Fraser's room. 
    
    "What happened?  Usually it's you I'm here to see.  A case doesn't seem
    complete with you still standing at the end." 
    
    "Thanks, Lieu." 
    
    "How's Big Red?" 
    
    "Dunno yet.  Let's go find out." 
    
    Welsh nodded as they headed into the room. "You're sure you're ok?" 
    
    "I'm fine." 
    
    "You're sure." 
    
    "Lieu...." 
    
    *** 
    
    


End file.
